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THE WINTER QUEEN 



" Qui sait si le reve d'un poete n'est pas aussi lucide que I'observa- 
tion ? Et si representor les gtres comme ils furent dans sa vision, 
n'est pas plus sure fagon de fixer I'expression fugace, oti parfois se 
re'vele — le temps d'un eclair — I'intimite d'une ame ? 

" Pourquoi n'appartiendraient-ils pas au roman, les personnages 
qui appartiennent a rhistoire^ roman aussi ? " 

Oatulle Mendes. 



THE WINTER QUEEN 

BEING THE UNHAPPY HISTORY OF 

ELIZABETH STUART 

ELECTRESS PALATINE, QUEEN OF 
BOHEMIA 



A ROMANCE 

BY 

MARIE HAY 

AUTHOR OF 'a GERMAN POMPADOUR* 

' DIANNE DE POITIERS ' AND ' AN 

UNREQUITED LOYALTY' 



I 



BOSTON AND NEW YORK 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 

1910 



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p{p^ 



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Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson dr* Co. 
At the Eallantyne Press, Edinburgh 



TO 

LEILA AND HERBERT 

IN MEMORY OF OUR WANDERINGS IN 

GERMANY.- IN BOHEMIA, IN HOLLAND, 

AND IN ENGLAND, WHERE WE SOUGHT 

THROUGH THE RECORDS OF 

THE SORROWFUL HISTORY OF 

HER WELL-BELOVED MAJESTY, 

ELIZABETH OF BOHEMIA. 



PREFACE 

BECAUSE the Stuart charm, working through 
the long-dead years, enchained me ; and then, 
because personality is deathless, 1 fell into a true 
love for her Majesty of Bohemia, But how it began ? 
Well — a strange thing, and yet, if personality is death- 
less, not so strange. Wandering through Bohemia, curious 
to see and perchance to learn, we came to Prague late at 
night and weary. The next morning I awoke with a 
sentence ringing in my ears : " The Winter Queen — a 
sorry history — but so brave — the Winter Queen ! " I 
marvelled, for Prague had held no message for me before, 
yet had I always felt I needs must journey back to the 
Czechish city ; and now this sentence, " The Winter 
Queen," haunted me, and seemed a command to me, 
who, then, knew little of Elizabeth Stuart. Perhaps her 
spirit, hovering over Bohemia, had come to order me to tell 
of her sad life. Had some vestige of her charm lingered 
in Prague ? I know not ; yet right humbly I set myself 
to learn the history of my " well-beloved, sweet, undaunted 
lady," learned it with a new thought of the bravery of 
cheerfulness through failure and sorrow. And here I 
have written of what I found in many pilgrimages through 
Germany, Bohemia, Holland, and our own dear England. 
There has been no lack of writings to teach me her 
Majesty's story ; there have been both printed books and 
a mass of MS. letters ; and though I have cast my history 
in the form of a romance, I here crave my readers' kind- 
ness to believe that I have given as much study to my 
subject as though I had written a biography. And, because 
I know out of my own curiosity in such matters, how 
when we read, we desire to know if this or that is actual 

vil 



viii PREFACE 

fact or but tlie romancer's invention, I must here affirm 
that I have the authority of ancient chronicles, of the 
records of studious searchers through many archives, or 
of the voice of legend to confirm the details, scenes, and 
characters of this romance. Sometimes I have been 
forced to tell of hideous things — of sacrilege and blas- 
phemy, and herein I have added nothing to the telling 
of the contemporary chroniclers. 

In the course of my wanderings it has been my good 
fortune, by investigation to prove the truth of some 
traditions. Thus I found a few old men at Amberg who 
remembered, as children, being taken to see the horse 
which King Friedrich rode on his flight from Rothen- 
burg to Amberg. In 1620 the citizens had caused poor 
" Hurry" to be stuffed and set up in their Rathaus, and 
he remained there till 1835, but then, being badly moth- 
eaten, he was destroyed. In the Munich " Schatzkammer " 
I found the Garter which King Friedrich lost at the 
Strahow Gate after the battle of the White Mountain. 
The diamond letters of the " Roni soit qui mat y pense " 
had evidently been moved closer together, in order to 
adjust the Garter to a thin leg, and the marks, where 
the buckle was fastened, are clearly seen. After months 
of searching I have been able to establish the fact that 
none know, that even local tradition in Sedan does not 
whisper, where King Friedrich of Bohemia is buried. 

There remains to me a duty which is a pleasant task : 
to own my thanks to those whose courtesy has helped 
me in my search — to my Lord Earl of Craven, who gave 
me leave to study the Craven papers ; to the authorities 
of the Royal Library at Munich, where I have read many 
rare books and collections of MS. letters of the seven- 
teenth century ; to the librarian of the Bohemian Museum 
at Prague ; and to the librarian of the University Library 
at Heidelberg. 

MAEIE HAY. 



CONTENTS 



1 CHAP. 
I. 


Her New Highness Palatine 


PAGE 
1 


II. 


Heidelberg ..... 


. 27 


III. 


Quiet Days . . . 


. 39 


IV. 


The First Mesh is Spun 


. 68 


Y. 


Warning 


. 81 


VI. 


The Web 


. 95 


VII. 


The Great War's Prelude . 


. Ill 


VIII. 


Departure 


. 130 


IX. 


Humiliation 


. 150 


X. 


King Friedrich's Ride . 


. 165 


XI. 


Prague 


. 175 


XII. 


The King's Vision 


. 203 


XIII. 


The White Mountain . 


. 222 


XIV. 


Flight 


. 234 


XV. 


Holland 


. 252 


XVI. 


The Supper in the Wood 


. 269 


XVII. 


" As Never Man hath Loved Before " 


. 280 


XVIII. 


The Hero of Fleurus . 


. 297 


XIX. 


Farewell 


. 316 



CONTENTS 



CHAP. PAGE 

XX. " If Love be Dead, why dost Thou Rise, 

Sun?" 333 



XXI. Tidings of Despair 
XXII. The Winter King . 

XXIII. D'Espinay 

XXIV. Home . 



346 
363 
379 
403 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



The Queen of Bohemia, hy Mibrevelt 
Equestrian Picture, hy Van der Yenne . 
Duke Christian of Brunswick, ly Mierevelt 
The Queen of Bohemia, hy Honthorst . 
The King of Bohemia, by Mierevelt 



Frontispiece 

To face p. 54 

„ 264 

„ 347 

369 



THE WINTER (^UEEN 

CHAPTER I 

HER NEW HIGHNESS PALATINE 

" I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, 
Of April, May, of June and July flowers. 

I write of youth, of Love — and have access 
By these, to sing of cleanly wantonness." 

— Hbrrick. 

THE 7tli day of June 1613 dawned fair in 
Heidelberg. The township had known no rest 
during the preceding night, for the constant sound 
of busy hammering, of hurrying footfalls, of workmen's 
oaths, of the rumble of passing carts laden with planks 
and beribboned poles, or with blossoming branches torn 
from Spring's treasury to adorn triumphal arches or to 
deck the overhanging eaves of Heidelberg's narrow streets, 
had filled the hours of rest with the clamour of prepara- 
tion. Even the river, the quiet Neckar, had seen her 
repose violated by loud labour. On her tranquil breast 
tall wooden towers had been raised, whence during the 
next night the new device of " fire plays " would shine 
forth to honour the young Pfalzgrafin, that sweet lady. 
Princess of Great Britain, Elizabeth Stuart, she, whom 
men called the Pearl of England. 

Most all the dwellers of Heidelberg had taken part in 
the preparations for this grand reception. Grave and 
reverend doctors of the university had given of their stored 
knowledge and their best Latinity to invent mythological 
subtleties for the decoration of arches and their inscrip- 
tions, and for the presentment of the personages who, in 

A 



2 THE WINTER QUEEN 

procession, would greet lier new Highness Palatine. The 
master of each guild had spent both anxious thought and 
hard-earned gold on the embellishment of his house, and 
not only upon the adornment of his portly spouse and the 
children it had pleased a mighty bounteous Providence to 
bestow upon him, but even the 'prentice hands had received 
fresh doublets and feathers for their caps. Hawkers and 
pedlars had reaped a harvest of small coin from serving- 
wenches and the wives of humble artisans, and in the 
neighbouring villages they had driven a brisk trade with 
the buxom peasant women, all agog at the tempting 
gaudiness of riband and rosette, of coloured kerchief, and 
of beaded hair-nets woven in finest silken cord. 

Up at the Castle there had reigned for many days a 
turmoil of preparation ; and all had toiled in their degree, 
from her Highness Louise Juliane down to the meanest 
scullion of the kitchen. The ladies with flying fingers 
had embroidered pennants and emblazoned cushions ; the 
musicians had tuned their instruments and discoursed a 
hundred melodies in arduous practice ; the gardeners had 
trimmed the primness of the Castle gardens till Spring 
had some trouble to smile through the strict order which 
made the trees and plants seem like wooden playthings ; 
the pastrycooks had raised flaky edifices of delicious 
promise ; the baker-master had attended his stupendous 
oven continuously ; the cooks and scullions had builded the 
most savoury pasties, had roasted half a herd of oxen and 
nigh upon a flock of sheep ; whilst, had the poultry which 
was a-cooking been flying over Heidelberg, it would have 
cast a black shadow from the many thousand outstretched 
wings. The great Tun, celebrated far and wide as the 
most enormous wine-cask in the world, holding as it did 
twenty-one pipes of liquid, had been filled to the brim 
with golden Rhenish wine, and had been set, for the occa- 
sion, on one of the castle terraces ; while below, the cellars 
had been stocked anew, barrel upon barrel, to the vaulted 
roof ; yet the cellarer was afeared lest there should not be 
enough, for there would be nigh upon six thousand throats 
to be wetted with choice vintages during the coming 



HER NEW HIGHNESS PALATINE 3 

festivities. Six thousand guests of all degrees to be 
feasted for twenty days at the expense of the noble Prince 
Palatine, at his expense and in his Castle of Heidelberg ! 
True, each day of the year did one thousand persons eat 
and drink from the bounty of this most wealthy Prince, 
and twice a year his Highness bestowed a full set of 
raiment upon his thousand dependants, not counting, of 
course, the men-at-arms and gentlemen of his guard, 
who lodged for the most part below in the town, and had 
their armour and weapons, their rations and small beer, 
at his Highness's expense. The cellarer was a troubled 
and yet a proud man, for who could boast so splendid a 
charge as his ? Who administered such a quantity of 
rare old Sack, of Tokay, of Malvoisie — these choice 
liquors which he would presently offer to the princes and 
nobles at the Palatine's own board ? Who, save the Duke 
of Wirtemberg's cellar-master, perchance ? But then 
Stuttgart's was the most lavish of all German Courts. 
The cellarer sighed, but mentally refused to vie with 
Wirtemberg's cellarer. The chief gardener had also 
sighed at the recollection of Stuttgart, for it was notorious 
that Heidelberg possessed but the second orangery in 
Germany, copied from that which Duke Christoph of 
Wirtemberg had caused to be planted in his Lustgarten 
many years since. 

Meanwhile the preparations for the Lady Elizabeth's 
reception went on apace and with unceasing labour, for 
the entertainment of princes means the toil of many 
menials. And on this seventh day of June, Friedrich V. 
Prince Palatine, would enter his town of Heidelberg in 
state with his bride. 

The first sun-rays had chased away the demure dawn, 
the birds carolled and twittered in the formal gardens of 
Heidelberg Castle, and with daylight the toilers redoubled 
their efforts. The master of the waterworks hurried to 
set the fountains of the plaisance agoing ; gardeners 
raked the paths afresh with wooden rakes ; from behind 
the Castle came the discordant roar of the wild animals 
in his Highness's menagerie, disturbed by attendants 



4 THE WINTER QUEEN 

entering their cages to redd up and make all fair and 
sweet, lest evil odours should offend the nostrils of 
England's fastidious daughter. With a burring sound 
the flags on the Castle towers flung out on the fresh 
morning breeze. Even the flags were new, in honour of 
this grand festival, and the little burring sound denoted 
the stiffness of the texture of the new silk. 

Of a sudden the toilers were startled by the appear- 
ance from the Otto Heinrich's Bau of a figure in sombre 
garments ; those who saw her paused in their work and 
reverentially doffed their caps, but she passed on with 
hurried steps and returned no word to their salutation. 

" She is anxious and afeared of the English lady," a 
gardener murmured to his companion, as the tall figure 
passed them, " or she would never pass us by ungreeted, 
for she is a very gracious dame, her Highness Juliane." 

" Well, well," grumbled the other gardener, " it is no 
marvel if she wonders what her son's beloved will be 
like ! I remember my mother was in a mighty pother 
when she first saw my old wife ; and then, this lady bride 
is from foreign climes." They fell a-gossiping of many 
sorry tales which the servants who had attended his 
Highness into England had brought back to quiet, orderly 
Heidelberg ; ugly stories, part true, part false, retailed in 
the taverns of Westminster; laughable episodes of his 
Majesty King James's spoiled doublets; of how the 
British Solomon slobbered his food and drink out of his 
loose-lipped, overtongued mouth; hideous insinuations 
anent his favourites ; exaggerated reports of the King's 
brutal speeches, which, of a truth, needed no magnifying 
to enhance the original grossness of James's habitual 
sayings ; awestruck whispers of the lavish prodigality and 
the opulent magnificence of Whitehall; of the drunken 
carousals at Theobald's. 

Her Highness Juliane passed on unconscious of the 
workers' presence ; but could she have heard the men's 
talk, gentle lady as she was, she would perchance have 
clapped them into the Hunger Tower — " Selten-oder- 
nimmer-leer" — as it was called from the grim fact that 



HER NEW HIGHNESS PALATINE 5 

within the memory of man it had never lacked lodgers. 
For what is so discomfiting as to hear our most unpleasant 
thoughts echoed by the vulgar in those broad phrases 
which reveal Fact without the decent raiment of Decep- 
tion, wherewith the elegant of the world clothe the ugly 
hag Reality ? Indeed, her Highness's own mind dwelled 
on these same accounts of England's ruler and his abode ; 
and her heart misgave her when she recalled the anec- 
dotes of the home of her son's young wife. Yet had she, 
Juliane, promoted the marriage for ambition's sake, and 
for the cause of the Reformed Faith ; and now the states- 
woman and the stern Calvinist fell back into the tender 
mother, yearning over her son's future, craving happiness 
for him, and let the world with its fond dreams of pride 
and avarice, let the religious factions and their fiery 
theologies go hang ! She longed for peace and plenty, 
for love and joy for her child, and she agonised in her 
soul, as she had agonised in her flesh, when she had 
borne him eighteen years ago. 

She passed on to the terrace overlooking the town 
towards Ladenburg, and her eyes strained into the distance 
where she knew the company of travellers must be — 
those splendid travellers, Elizabeth Stuart and Friedrich, 
Prince Palatine — coming in triumph to their ancient 
Heidelberg. The Countess Juliane leaned her arms on 
the parapet and gazed upon the beauty of the Spring 
country. Below her nestled closely the red-brown roofs of 
the township, and from the city's hearths little spirals of 
blue smoke arose, betraying the preparation of the burghers' 
morning meal. The river Neckar flowed away in tranquil 
beauty between the gentle rise of the blossom-decked hills. 
Ah God ! ah God ! would the English princess love and 
tend Friedrich, the son of her love ? She chid herself 
sternly for her want of trust in God, and her thoughts 
turned to her own past and the years of peace and happy 
love which had been hers with Friedrich's father. She 
recalled her entry into Heidelberg twenty years ago ; it 
had been full summer then, the white glory of the blossom 
had passed, and the trees stood in all their pride, rich in 



6 THE WINTER QUEEN 

fresh green foliage. She remembered how lonely she had 
felt, how young and uncertain, and how the pageant had 
struck awe into her heart. Perhaps Elizabeth Stuart was 
knowing the same pang of strangeness ? But no, she 
came from a Court where pageants and pomp were the 
things of every day ; whereas she, Juliane, had come from 
quiet Holland, where her life had been ordered by the 
severe yet cultured Princess Louise de Coligny. There 
it had been decorum of life, ruled by austere though 
kindly souls, simplicity and dignity at once. She re- 
collected how in Heidelberg the constant allusion to each 
noble's genealogical table had dismayed and puzzled her, 
how she had despaired of comprehending the subtle dis- 
tinctions between the rank of this Baron and that Count. 
Here all had been regulated by prescription, by right of 
ancestry or office, while Juliane had been nurtured in 
principles of almost republican equality which obtained 
in the highly civilised states of Holland ; but Germany, 
despite the wealth of both noble and burgher, was less 
lettered, and therefore incapable of easy, refined social 
intercourse. In Holland she had been used to daily con- 
verse anent learned matters, for Louise de Coligny had 
brought some of the elegant erudition of France to the 
Hague. In Heidelberg Juliane had found constant 
banqueting, much talk of the chase, varied at best by 
fi.erce polemics ; but learning and culture hid in the 
universities, and their votaries conversed in Latin, leaving 
the German tongue to the unlettered. Thus she had 
found little or no traffic of the mind in her new surround- 
ings. Ah well ! things had changed somewhat since 
then, and she reflected that Elizabeth nowadays would 
find at least as polished a court in Heidelberg as she had 
left in England, albeit the pomp and splendour were less. 
And Friedrich ? She had reared him strictly in the stern 
rule of Calvin ; all who had leaned to the laxer teachings 
of Luther had been banished ; no Lutheran tract or treatise 
had been permitted in the Palatinate, and she had caused 
those harbouring such light literature to be fined, and the 
odious writings to be burned by the common hangman. 



HER NEW HIGHNESS PALATINE 7 

Yet was Friedrich, withal, no unpolished dullard. She had 
sent him to France to learn the elegancy of life. God 
alone knew what it had cost her to part with her son for 
so much of his youth, but she had permitted and en- 
couraged his prolonged residence at Sedan with her 
sister's husband, that proud Due de Bouillon, the pattern 
of Protestant princes, an ornament, despite his austerity, 
of the gay court of France. 

Yes, Friedrich was a courtly gentleman. Would she 
love him — this English Princess ? " Ah God ! just 
Judge," she prayed, " if it be Thy Avill, give him happi- 
ness. Give my son joy and content — if it be for his 
salvation," she added hastily, the habit of the Calvinistic 
conscience coming to correct the human passion of 
tenderness which surged in the mother's heart. " If it 
be Thy will, joy and content — if it be Thy will." For a 
moment she covered her eyes with her hand, shutting 
out the glory of Spring. Somewhere below in the plain, 
which spread in blue and hazy distance beyond the en- 
circling hills, there rang out a fanfare of trumpets, and 
at the same moment behind her she heard the clatter of 
horses' hoofs. She raised her head to listen, and, turn- 
ing, saw a line of grooms leading richly caparisoned 
steeds from the stables across the inner moat towards 
the castle courtyard. The horses of the princes sojourn- 
ing at Heidelberg for the festivities were being led to 
their noble riders, who would forthwith mount and pro- 
ceed to meet the Palsgrave and his bride at the outskirts 
of the little city of Ladenburg, where, forming into a 
magnificent procession, they would escort the bridal pair 
into Heidelberg. 

The Countess Juliane sighed ; it irked her to reflect 
upon the hundred ceremonies Friedrich and the Lady 
Elizabeth would pass through ere she beheld them. She 
had waited calmly during the long months since her 
son's nuptials in England, but her impatience had grown 
with every sunrise, and while Elizabeth had tarried in 
Holland with her husband's uncle. Prince Maurice of 
Orange, it had seemed to Juliane as if each day had 



8 THE WINTER QUEEN 

learned a slower tread tlian the preceding span ; and now 
she was aware of the awful length of hours, the cruel 
slowness of minutes. 

A cavalcade clattered across the drawbridge of the 
inner moat towards the narrow gateway of the outer wall. 
A company of princes it was for the most part. First 
rode his Highness the Duke of Zweibriicken, who by 
virtue of his close kinship had been the Administrator of 
the Palatinate, a title he still bore pending Prince Fried- 
rich's attainment of his majority. There rode old Duke 
Christian of Anhalt, stern warrior, and ruthless antagonist 
of the House of Hapsburg. Then came the magnificent 
Duke of Wirtemberg and his brothers ; and, gayer than 
all, Duke Magnus of Wirtemberg, a thoughtless youth, 
famous at the German Courts for his pranks and clown- 
like pleasantries. Prince Louis Philip, Count Palatine, 
Juliane's youngest son, rode beside Prince Christian the 
younger of Anhalt, and the Markgraves of Anspach and 
Brandenburg ; then there were my Lords of Handschuhs- 
heim, of Hirshhorn, of Minneburg, of Zwingenberg ; and 
that Count of Steinach whose forbears had won by their 
robber deeds the proud title of Landschad (land-despoiler), 
a grim name now borne as a mark of high and old nobility. 
There, too, was the Count of Diebsberg, descendant of 
another famous robber baron, as the name denotes. The 
cortege was followed by a troop of pages and esquires, 
cadets of noble families. 

Juliane heard the younger men's voices raised in 
pleasantry; through the filmy tracery of the leaves of 
the beech trees at the end of the terrace she saw the 
flash of burnished breastplates, for the riders were all in 
full battle array in honour of the mock warfare which 
would be the chief feature of Elizabeth's reception. Her 
face darkened, for she hated and despised sham battles, 
feared them, too, since the day her husband's young kins- 
man and friend, Louis Philip, the namesake of that gay 
young prince just ridden by, had received his death- 
wound in a tourney here at Heidelberg. She shuddered 
when she recalled the dark hours she had spent, when. 



HER NEW HIGHNESS PALATINE 9 

still weak from childbirtli, she had attended the gorgeous 
festivities, and had witnessed the sinister ending of that 
fine tournament given in the babe's honour. All the 
superstitious terrors of that omen-tortured age had rioted 
in the young mother's soul, and when, two days after the 
prince's death, a furious earthquake had caused the 
towers of Heidelberg to rock and sway, she had responded 
by an agony of fear to the stern preachings of the Calvin- 
ist divines, who had thundered warning and condemna- 
tion upon the light pleasures of mock battles, of earthly 
pomp, and boisterous feastings, calling the prince's death 
a just retribution for such sinful joustings, and affirming 
the earthquake to be a portent of the righteous wrath of 
an outraged God. 

She asked herself now if these ceremonious rejoicings, 
this display of human power and splendour, this magni- 
ficent panoply of warfare exhibited for the lust of earthly 
pomp were not an insult to God, a thing of evil import, 
a dire offence ? And for this fool feasting, for these 
hollow glories, was her Friedrich risking the happy pre- 
sage of his youthful joy ? 

Below in the town the clock of the Heilig Geist 
Church tolled the hour. Juliane started. Could it be so 
late ? She marvelled that the leaden-footed hours had 
passed so swiftly. Once more she chid herself for a 
timorous woman, weak in trust of the Almighty's clem- 
ency, for she clung to the mercy of God although she had 
been taught to remember chiefly His wrath and His eter- 
nal vengeance. With an effort she withdrew her thoughts 
from doleful ponderings, and turning from the terrace 
parapet she walked rapidly through the narrow garden, 
past the Hunger Thurm, and over the inner drawbridge 
into the courtyard. Everywhere she was met with venera- 
tion, even the sentries at the gate received her not only 
with the ordinary salute of honour, but with friendly 
though respectful greeting. She was not proud, this 
noble Princess of Orange, save with that unconscious 
pride of dignity, which the humble and the simple love 
and answer to with freely given reverence and good affec- 



10 THE WINTER QUEEN 

tion. God wot ! her Highness could reprove and utterly 
discomfit a forward wench, a pert youth, or a presumptu- 
ous burgher ; but with the simple she was simple, be they 
soldier or serving-maid, prince or noble dame. 

Now, having banished dark thoughts and forebodings, 
her quick and housewifely eye probed each detail of 
domestic labour. She cast a searching glance round the 
courtyard, reproved a slatternly serving-man who had 
spilled water from the fountain on to the steps of the 
Otto Heinrich's Bau ; inquired why a dirty clout fluttered 
from one of the windows of the " Kemenate " ; sent an 
urgent message to the kitchen desiring the master of the 
roast to watch, lest some careless turnspit should allow 
burning fat to fester on the bars of the huge open fire- 
place and diffuse ill odours through the yard. " Must 
her new Highness Palatine be greeted with the ugly 
stench of roasting viands as though she entered a tavern 
instead of her own castle ? " she queried. " She, to whom 
I would offer only the fragrance of roses to perfume all 
her days and fill her soul with sweetness," she murmured 
to herself as she passed on. 

In the Friedrich's Bau, where lay the lodging of the 
Lady Elizabeth, all appeared well and duly ordered. The 
Countess Juliane shrank momentarily from a sharp stab 
of memory as she beheld the spacious apartments, for 
here had she dwelt for many years until a few weeks 
back, when she had changed her domicile to the Otto 
Heinrich's Bau. She had not lived here as a young 
bride, for the Friedrich's Bau had been built by her 
husband's command in the halcyon days of their wedded 
life ; but she had spent a few years with her spouse in 
peace in this fair dwelling-place ; and the solemn hours 
of her widow's mourning had been passed here. She 
felt as though her grief and sorrowful communings had 
consecrated these walls, and turned each chamber into a 
quiet sanctuary. Yet she had deemed this more sump- 
tuous habitation to be better fitted for the reigning 
Princess Palatine than for the deposed chatelaine, and 
no jealous pang had stirred in her when she had owned 



HER NEW HIGHNESS PALATINE 11 

herself dethroned. Friedrich's wife could not appear to 
her as an usurper, but as a rightful ruler come to claim 
her own glad heritage. Still Julian e had grieved at 
leaving her abode, and she sighed as she passed through 
the rooms. 

The windows of the Lady Elizabeth's apartments lay in 
shadow, and the Countess Juliane consulted her memory 
anxiously as to whether the sun would shine into the 
rooms at the hour of her new Highness Palatine's arrival. 
Surely yes, at midday the Friedrich's Eau was wont to 
be flooded with sunshine. She rejoiced that it should 
be so. 

Her Highness's rooms were four in number, and led 
from the broad, marbled corridor looking out on the 
courtyard, whilst the chamber- windows opened on to a 
grand view of terraced garden, and far below the deep 
valley with the red roofs of the city houses ; then, the 
tranquil progress of the river Neckar ; and beyond, as a 
boundary to vision, the long line of the blossom-covered 
Heiligenberg. 

The Countess Juliane stood for a moment at the window 
of the first room, or ante-hall, where the gentlemen and 
pages of the suite were wont to wait. On the broad, 
open hearth there blazed a fire of beech logs, for albeit 
June had come. Spring had been but a tardy visitant that 
year, and a chill lingered over the world. Juliane passed 
into her Highness's own antechamber, destined for the 
use of the ladies of Elizabeth's suite, a splendid room 
enough, Avith marbled floor and panelled walls. A high 
green porcelain stove stood in one corner, and here was a 
niche between the stove and the wall with a quaint seat 
wrought in the same coloured faience, where Friedrich as 
a little boy had loved to sit, cowering close to the warmth 
on winter evenings. She had rallied him often, calling 
him " Master Dormouse," " Little Prince Shiverkin," and 
the like ; but her ladies had ever prayed her spare him 
to them, vowing that he was better than any troubadour 
of old, and that he told them wondrous tales of martial 
deeds while he sat so warmly in the stove corner. Ah ! 



12 THE WINTER QUEEN 

he had been a winsome child, her Friedrich ; sure the 
EngUsh Princess must needs love him now that he had 
reached so fair a manhood ? 

She went on into her Highness's audience-chamber 
and withdrawing-room, a gorgeous apartment with glow- 
ing tapestries on the walls between the panels. Tall 
carven chairs with cushioned seats stood here, and before 
one was a small tabouret with a silk-embroidered centre, 
which Friedrich himself had commanded to be placed 
before her Highness's chair, having seen such conceits 
in Danish Anne's luxurious apartments at Westminster. 
The last room of the suite was the Lady Elizabeth's 
bedchamber, and, as Juliane entered, it struck her as of 
happy augury that the room was flooded with sunshine. 
It faced north-east, and thus the sun on his progress had 
hastened to smile into the Princess's apartments. So 
Juliane told herself, with that touch of poetic exaggera- 
tion which lives for ever in the soul of one to whom God 
has vouchsafed the gift of deep affection, be it a lover 
extolling his beloved, or a mother yearning over her 
child's happiness. Her Highness's sleeping-chamber was 
hung with golden brocade, and the four-poster bed was 
sheltered by silken curtains of golden damask. Here, 
too, on the wide hearth beech logs flamed. 

Juliane bent with an impulse of tenderness and laid 
her lips on the stiflSy embroidered coverlet upon the bed. 
In that mother-kiss she gave a welcome and a blessing 
to the stranger — to the English Princess, in whose hands 
was Friedrich's destiny, and in whose keeping was the 
faithful love of his heart as Juliane had seen both by her 
son's letters from England, and by his words and actions 
during the hasty visit he had paid to Heidelberg to 
inspect the arrangements for his bride's reception. 
Opening a narrow door, Juliane looked into her High- 
ness's closet or tiring-room. Here stood the silver wash- 
ing vessels which the Duchesse de Bouillon had sent out 
of France, the basin and ewer, the chased perfume-flagons 
and hairbrushes. 

All was in order for the Pearl of England's reception. 



HER NEW HIGHNESS PALATINE 13 

Once more Juliane gazed from the window on tlie familiar 
landscape. " It is very fair, this land," she told herself; 
" will she love it too, and give my son content in the 
home of his fathers ? " 

As she gazed at the smiling valley she reflected that, 
perhaps, Spring had waited so that his masterpiece of 
bloom should be still there for the land's greeting to 
Elizabeth Stuart. " A fitting bridal wreath on hill and 
vale ; a right fair coronal for my sweet Friedrich's love ! " 
she murmured, as she gazed on the white beauty of the 
blossom-crowned country. 

" Madame ! " a voice broke in on her reverie — 
" Madame, despite your orders to be undisturbed this 
morning, I must e'en venture to recall the hour to you." 

It was one of her ladies who stood beside her. " Be not 
angered, Madame, for indeed the day grows apace, and 
it is time your Highness robed herself for the procession." 

" Is it so late ? Come, let us hasten," Juliane answered 
gently. " It is a very fair and gracious day to me when 
I can hasten to meet my Friedrich's well-beloved lady." 

In the town of Heidelberg excitement and ex- 
pectation had reached a point of strained attention 
which was almost anguish. Not alone was it the 
curiosity of a gaping crowd which would be satisfied by 
the sight of a splendid pageant, it was the anxious ex- 
pectation of a people to behold a princess upon whose 
goodwill much of their future welfare depended ; and 
more, it was the affectionate solicitude of loyal friends 
and trusty retainers seeing for the first time the woman 
destined to make or mar the happiness of a beloved lord 
and ruler. Friedrich of the Palatinate was the cherished 
jewel of his people; they had seen him grow from in- 
fancy to manhood ; they had grieved with the Countess 
Juliane during his absences at Sedan ; they had wel- 
comed him on his return, marking with interest his 
growth, and sharing the mother's pride in the debonair 
youth's progress. His father, Friedrich IV., had been an 
honoured and much mourned master, but Friedrich V. 



14 THE WINTER QUEEN 

was the son of tlie people's affection. It was, indeed, a 
critical audience before which Elizabeth Stuart was to 
play the first act of her life's drama. True, she had sus- 
tained a prominent role in that gorgeous prologue, the 
pageantry in England, but that had been among her own 
people and in a familiar setting, where folks forgot to 
note the chief actors in their wonder at the lavish costli- 
ness of the mounting of the play. 

In spite of the gloom which the death of Prince 
Henry, James's eldest son, the " verrie deere brother and 
firm friend" of Elizabeth Stuart, had cast over England, 
the wedding festivities had been on a scale of mag- 
nificence which had not only appalled the Puritans, but 
even the nobles and courtiers had stood aghast at so 
vast an outlay of state-needed gold. One hundred and 
forty thousand pounds were reported to have been spent 
upon the espousals alone, and the Lady Elizabeth's 
dowry had doubled that sum. It was whispered that 
her Highness's wedding raiment had cost a duke's 
revenue; her white satin gown had been so heavily 
broidered in silver that she could scarce stand ; upon her 
head she had borne a crown of refined gold studded and 
embossed with giant pearls and diamonds, standing like 
shining pinnacles over her " deep amber-coloured " hair, 
which had hung in massive plaits to her waist, and 
between the braiding of each plait had been chains of 
gold, pearls, diamonds, and rubies. The Puritans had 
said bitterly that the British Solomon had outdone the 
King of Israel in his glory, even if he could not hence- 
forward lay claim to the wisdom of the Jewish monarch ! 
James had shambled through the ceremonies with jewels 
about his neck and on his breast worth a hundred thousand 
pounds ; while Anne of Denmark had shone modestly in 
gems valued at a trifling four hundred thousand pounds. 
The wedding anthem had been : " Blessed is he that 
feareth the Lord," and the Puritans had murmured that 
the God-fearing man did not waste his substance upon 
earthly pomp, upon gauds and shining baubles. Yet 
even they, the stern, cruel men who had hounded Marie 



HER NEW HIGHNESS PALATINE 15 

Stuart to imprisonment and death, had well-nigh par- 
doned James for his prodigality when they had re- 
membered Elizabeth's mission upon earth ; and those 
who had seen her had joined in the eulogy of her 
beauty, that heavenly radiance which they averred shone 
from her face and betokened the especial grace of God. 
Already all men, even the Puritans, fell under the magic 
of her smile, though they ascribed their faltering to the 
divine favour impressed upon one destined to serve 
God's elect, and to further the uprooting of the Church 
of Antichrist. 

Thus England had sent forth her royal daughter with 
a very halo of romance, an almost legendary splendour 
of unparalleled magnificence calculated to stir the 
imagination of all Europe. 

The grave burghers of Heidelberg were well aware of 
the political importance of their Prince's union ; the 
sincere votaries of the Reformed Faith looked upon it as 
an earnest of the triumph of Calvin's doctrines. To 
them, as to the English Puritans, she was God's own 
chosen handmaid en, the especial instrument of destiny. 

To the good people of the Palatinate she was their 
new lady, the consort of a beloved ruler ; to the youthful 
members of the community she seemed a queen of 
romance stepped living from one of those fond histories 
of doughty deeds, chivalrous knights, fair ladyes, 
passionate devotion, and glorious - gallantry — those sweet 
and merry stories so harshly banished from the dull 
shelves of the Calvinists' libraries, but enshrined in the 
hearts of all romantic youths. 

Elizabeth Stuart's journey from England commenced 
on the twenty-first day of April, but the elements rose in 
anger when the Pearl of England was ravished from her 
" ain countree " ; in other words, a furious storm drove the 
fleet back to theBritish coast, and it was only on the twenty- 
eighth day that her Highness was safely landed in Holland. 
Prince Maurice of Orange, more solicitous than Elizabeth's 
own father, who by that time was returned to his orgies 
at Theobald's, had despatched one Master Samuel More, his 



16 THE WINTEK QUEEN 

chief navigator, to pilot her Highness's ships through the 
dangerous sandbanks and hidden shoals off the Dutch 
coast, and the gallant company had arrived without 
mishap. Nevertheless there were not wanting in doleful 
presagers who whispered that to be obliged to turn back 
on a voyage was an ill omen ; but these sinister rumours 
were forgotten in the rejoicings which Prince Maurice 
and the States of Holland offered in homage to the 
splendid wayfarers. It seemed as though Prince Maurice, 
who usually affected an almost boorish simplicity 
of dress and manners, had fallen from the outset 
under Elizabeth Stuart's spell ; and the Dutch burghers 
and substantial merchants followed their Stadthouder's 
example, and rendered an almost frenzied homage to the 
English Princess. Banquets and processions, music, and 
representations of French comedies were the order of the 
hour ; and, what pleased her Highness more than these, a 
succession of hunting-parties, where Elizabeth herself 
shot several stags. Her prowess was duly recorded in 
the chronicles of the day in France, Germany, and Eng- 
land, wherein she was lauded as a very Diana. 
Seemingly Prince Maurice of Orange could not part 
with his young kinswoman, and Friedrich, having 
hurried on to Heidelberg to inspect the arrangements 
for Elizabeth's home-coming, Prince Maurice gallantly 
escorted her through the States and into Germany. At 
every town she was feasted and sumptuously entertained, 
and each city vied with the other in the lavishness of their 
gifts and the prolixity of their orations in her honour. 
At length, having reached Cologne with his fair charge, 
Prince Maurice took his leave, and Elizabeth continued 
her progress unattended, save by the hundred and 
eighty-eight persons she had brought with her out of 
England. The roads being notoriously unfit for heavy 
coaches, it was decided at Cologne that her Highness 
should proceed by ship up the Rhine. When she 
approached the water's edge she found no ordinary State 
vessels, but a fairy fleet, awaiting her. Elizabeth's own 
barge was built in the shape of an altar, a gilded lion 



HER NEW HIGHNESS PALATINE 17 

stood at the prow, and a golden figure representing 
Fortuna was at the stern. The sails were of golden 
damask ; the flags of red, gold, and blue silk, grandly 
broidered with the arms of England. A royal-blue 
pennant fl.uttered over her Highness's baldaquin, with 
the device, " Honi soit qui mal y pense." Blue and 
crimson velvet hangings and carpets covered the bows and 
deck, and the roof of the baldaquin was of blue velvet to 
represent the sky, and the stars thereon were wrought in 
pure gold. This magic barge was followed by three other 
fine ships for the accommodation of her Highness's suite. 

In stately procession the fleet sailed up the Rhine. 
Fortunately for the voyagers in their sumptuous barges 
the heavens smiled, and neither rain nor wind came to 
destroy the beauty of Friedrich's extravagant homage; 
and Elizabeth could thrill at the poetical devotion of 
so romantically lavish a lord and lover. Her Highness 
observed that her fairy fleet was followed by a substantial 
vessel of unpretending dimensions and with no fairy-like 
adornments, but solid and well covered ; and it caused 
her to smile when she was told that the Countess Juliane 
had despatched this craft, unknown to Friedrich, fearing 
lest the weather should prove inclement, and Elizabeth 
should be rewarded with drenched raiment for her trust 
in her love-sick lord's arrangements. 

Yet, despite the smiles of the heavens, the splendour of 
the progress, the constant pleasure of hearing and re- 
sponding to the orations which city and even village 
magnates proclaimed from the banks of the Rhine to the 
slow-moving and constantly hindered fairy fleet, the Lady 
Elizabeth had grown right weary of ceremony and travel ; 
and even the converse of her honoured companions, the 
Earl and Countess of Harrington, the noble Duke of 
Lennox, Viscount Leslie, Lord Arundell, Sir Edward 
Cecil, and of her own close friend Mistress Anne Dudley, 
failed to relieve the tedium of the protracted journey. 
When, on a sudden, through the flowering fields near 
Bacharach, a group of gaily attired horsemen appeared 
on the river banks, and Friedrich Prince Palatine, weary 

B 



18 THE WINTER QUEEN 

of ceremonies and impatient to behold his loved lady, had 
ridden forth to greet her. The fairy fleet hove to, and his 
Highness boarded the royal barge. 

" My lord ! my lord ! this is indeed a happy day," 
Elizabeth said, and a trifle abashed she was at this amor- 
ous impatience shown before so mighty a concourse of 
people, and in the midst of so ceremonious a progress. 

" Be not wroth, sweet queen of my heart," he whis- 
pered; " I could wait no longer ! Methought the day had 
a hundred hours, and the night a million years while I 
was far from you," and he drew her, unresisting, into her 
curtained baldaquin. 

Perhaps because all the world loves a lover, and the 
human heart is ever stirred by the homage of a fine youth 
for his beloved, the enthusiasm for the Lady Elizabeth 
was increased tenfold by the rumour that her deeply 
enamoured spouse had broken the bonds of ceremony 
and flown to meet his love. Popular acclamation re- 
doubled, and the citizens of each town through which the 
bridal cortege passed grew more than ever vociferous in 
plaudits, more lavish in costly gifts ; and, alas ! waxed 
more profuse in oration and laudatory verse. Oppenheim, 
the first Palatine city which Elizabeth entered, outdid all 
other towns in music, garlands, quaint processions, trium- 
phal arches, banquets, and — orations, until her Highness 
was near done to death by too much kindness ! Still 
love, the sun, and the spring country smiled, and the 
world seemed very fair to her. 

And on this seventh day of June she was to enter Heidel- 
berg. It was whispered through the waiting crowd that 
though Prince Friedrich had dutifully returned from 
Oppenheim according to ancient custom to receive his 
bride in state upon her entry into his domains, he had 
hastened to his beloved secretly the preceding night, and 
though he would greet her formally at Ladenburg he had 
not ridden forth that morning from Heidelberg with the 
other princes ; and, in truth, he would but have quitted 
the Lady Elizabeth for a few short hours before he bade 
her welcome pubhcly. This delighted the public exceed- 



HER NEW HIGHNESS PALATINE 19 

ingly; the maidens sighed and wished for themselves so 
ardent a lover ; the old dames smiled and recalled their 
own long- vanished courting days ; while the men pondered 
on how sweet a lady this must be for a man to love her 
so madly. 

At last there fell on the listening ears the boom of 
cannon, the royal salute at Ladenburg. Again and 
again Echo caught the sound and rolled it round in rum- 
bling grandeur between the hills. Now, on a sudden, 
there was a loud blast of trumpets in the valley near by, 
and my Lord Seneschal appeared with two hundred red- 
clad, mounted lackeys and finely habited equerries to clear 
the way for the procession. The Lord Chief Huntsman 
followed with a goodly company of green-coated hunters, 
hawkers, and falconers. The Palatine's chief retainers 
marched next, with gilded badges on their caps and 
scarves of sky-blue silk across their breasts. Then rode 
a bevy of nobles of the land in full battle array, with 
clank of steel and martial air, each lord, as in another 
age, preceded by his squire bearing a banner emblazoned 
with heraldic devices. There were the Counts of Hohen- 
lohe, of Nassau, of Sarbriicken, of Witgenstein, of Lowen- 
stein, and many other proud nobles of Germany, riding 
splendid, richly caparisoned steeds. Lesser nobles followed 
— a brave and merry train. After these, in companies, 
the followers of each prince: of the young princes of 
Wirtemberg, of Anhalt, of the Rhenish Palatinate, of 
Brandenburg, Anspach, Baden, and the rest, in the liveries 
and uniforms of each royal house. There came bands 
of trumpeters and several regiments of musketeers, of 
halberdiers, and mounted soldiery ; and if these were 
for the most part mercenaries and professional adven- 
turers it mattered not, they made a gallant show. Again 
a body of trumpeters marched past, and then there 
rode the heralds wearing the sumptuous red and gold 
embroidered tabards of their office. After these came a 
troop of horsemen armed cap-^-pie in burnished steel ; 
and then, slowly, a great gilded coach hove in sight. A 
breathless stillness fell on the crowd, an almost awestruck 



20 THE WINTER QUEEN 

silence, for now that the long-awaited moment was at 
hand it seemed sudden — startling. The swaying vehicle 
with its snow-white horses came slowly onward. 

" Keep back from the coach's window, dear Pfalzgraf," 
called an aged gaffer. " Keep back, your dear High- 
ness, that we may see your lady's face." 

And Prince Friedrich, sweeping his plumed hat from 
his head in a courtly salute, cried loudly : " Ye do well, 
my friends, to wish to see our fair pearl of loveliness 1 " 
and he reined back his prancing steed from beside the 
coach-window so that Elizabeth's sweet, haunting face 
was seen by all. There came a sigh of very wonder 
from all beholders, a moment's stillness as of prayer, then 
from ten thousand lips a cry burst forth : " Hail ! hail ! 
Elizabeth ! Hail to the Pearl of England ! Hail and 
welcome, lady, to this land ! " 

Near the coach rode a group of youthful princes, a young 
Duke of Wirtemberg, Prince Louis Philip of the Palatinate, 
and Prince Christian of Anhalt the younger. These had 
defied the trammels of ceremonious custom which assigned 
them places in the cortege of princes, and had craved leave 
to act as the Lady Elizabeth's especial guard ; and Prince 
Friedrich, who had refused to occupy his appointed place 
in a second gilded coach, had upheld the chivalrous gentle- 
men in their petition and had himself led this noble escort 
beside her Highness's chariot. 

After Elizabeth's carriage came several ponderous, 
heavily decorated coaches wherein the most illustrious of 
the English visitors were seated, and in serried ranks her 
Highness's retinue followed : English divines, secretaries 
and pages, physicians and surgeons, trencher-bearers, 
cellarers, English cooks, bakers and scullions, wardrobe 
men and maids, tailors and broiderers, furriers, shoe- 
makers, and many lackeys ; and even her Highness's own 
laundresses had come with her out of England ; and, of 
course, her tiring-women, her hairdressers and other 
personal attendants, and a stud of horses with their 
drivers, grooms, ostlers, sumptermen. Each of the Lady 
Elizabeth's ladies had a dozen flunkeys and serving- 



HER NEW HIGHNESS PALATINE 21 

wenches, each noble guest had half a hundred retainers 
and their servants' servants. Indeed, the procession 
looked mighty like the arrival of an invading army, whose 
straggling line reached a couple of miles along the road, 
and afforded much diversion to the Heidelberg burghers 
for many hours. 

Elizabeth's way was strewn with roses, and the houses 
were so decked with green or flowering branches that the 
city seemed a very bower. Everywhere slender sprays of 
lilac, and clustering garlands of white May-blossom filled 
the air with delicate fragrance. Little children and young 
maidens held up bloom-covered branches, youths and men 
waved green boughs ; and, if there was a sad face or an 
unsightly cripple in Heidelberg, that day sorrow and 
weakness seemed banished, and only spring, beauty, gaiety, 
and happiness came forth to meet Elizabeth Stuart. And 
she gave the people of the magic of her smile ; and when, 
at the first triumphal archway she responded to the 
reverent Burgomaster's long oration in a few words of 
halting German, the enthusiasm of the populace broke 
forth again in tremendous applause. 

" Where learned you these German sayings, dear heart ? " 
Friedrich whispered, bending from his saddle. 

" Your kinsman. Christian of Anhalt, taught me them 
while we tarried at Ladenburg to-day," she answered gaily. 

" Ah, Christian ! you dare to woo her Highness ? " 
Friedrich laughed, as he drew back behind the coach to 
leave Elizabeth in view of the crowd. 

" Who would not woo her ? He must be a churl 
indeed who does not worship the potent magic of her 
glance," the youth answered, with a flush on his beard- 
less cheek. 

Slowly the long cortege moved forward, until it came 
to the last and most ornate of the many triumphal 
arches which Heidelberg had raised to honour their new 
Pfalzgrafin. Here the procession halted. The arch was 
a fine pillared structure, and was decked with branches 
torn from his Highness's orangery, and with other strange 
foreign plants and tall white lilies. In the middle was a 



22 THE WINTER QUEEN 

gallery where musicians discoursed sweet music from 
lutes, violins, and flutes. From out the encircling laurel 
garlands peeped pictures of the Reformers, Melanchthon, 
Luther, and Calvin ; and below them were statues of the 
four Evangelists ; while enthroned on the summit of the 
arch was a mythological figure representing Juno, goddess 
of conjugal fidelity. This heterogeneous collection of 
symbols was alluded to in a long Latin oration pro- 
nounced by the venerable Lord Rector of Heidelberg 
University, and it was only among the group of eminent 
scholars who accompanied his Reverence that the ill- 
chosen significance of the symbolic conceits was noticed ; 
but these gentlemen marvelled that Juno had been 
selected for comparison, as it was well known that though 
the goddess protected marriage, her own wedded bliss had 
been but a sorry spectacle. Then, too, it displeased the 
learned doctors to see the depictments of Luther and 
Calvin together, for that doctrine which the one had 
taught was abominable to the other, and the simultaneous 
presentment of their lineaments was a portent of lax 
broadness of thought which could surely never be en- 
couraged by earnest men. Then, too, the presence of 
frivolous music was but ill suited to an archway repre- 
senting such grave matters as religion and wedded fidelity. 
While these murmurs ran through the group of black- 
gowned divines, the Lord Rector poured forth a volume 
of eulogy, of theological subtleties and mythological 
absurdities which, perchance, fell familiarly on the hear- 
ing of the Lady Elizabeth, for she was but too well used 
to her father's, James the Pedant's, endless diatribes, to do 
aught save weary a trifle. The excellent discourse ended, 
for all things end when they have exacted their full tax 
of human weariness. 

Then followed a pretty conceit: a child personating 
Cupid came forward and oflered her Highness a gilt basket 
laden with fruit, and decorated with so generous a pro- 
fusion of roses and white lilies that Cupid himself was 
half hidden. 

" Madame ! " the child's voice came shrilly, " Madame, 



HER NEW HIGHNESS PALATINE 23 

la Deesse Flora et la Deesse Polmona vous saluent et vous 
souhaitent toute Benediction et Felicite, elles vous envoient 
cette corbeille." 

" Ah ! Lift tlie little one up, my lords, that I may 
thank him right worthily ! " cried the Lady Elizabeth. 
And one of the attendant gentlemen lifted the child to 
the level of the coach's window. 

" Mesdames les Dresses ont un bien joli messager ! " she 
said ; and, bending through the window, she laid her fresh 
lips on the child's brow. A woman in the crowd broke 
forth into a sob of delight, and again a mighty cry went 
up of : " Hail ! our Elizabeth ! Hail! sweet, gracious lady! " 

Now was to be enacted the climax of the day's cere- 
monies. It had been arranged that as her Highness 
passed through the last archway a crown of refined gold 
and precious gems should be lowered on to her coach ; 
it had been contrived that this diadem should be firmly 
fastened with rivets prepared on the carriage, and that 
thus gloriously crowned her Highness should enter the 
Castle of Heidelberg. Two young boys habited in flowing 
white draperies and with golden wings on their shoulders 
were to lower this crown from the archway with silken 
cords, and two tall youths arrayed in full mediaeval armour 
representing the Paladins of old, were ordered to reach up 
and fasten the sacred symbol firmly on to the vehicle's 
roof with the rivets. Now it must be recollected that 
during the Lord Rector's copious oration and the manifold 
ceremonies of the long morning, her Highness's coach- 
horses had stood in the midst of a cheering crowd, and 
already during the last halt they had trembled and 
started, and it had required all their grooms' blandish- 
ments to keep them quiet ; now they proved restive, and 
despite their leaders' efforts they started violently forward, 
dragging the heavy coach joltingly along. The crown, 
which had just been lowered, was flung off the coach-roof 
and hurled into the flower-strewn road. Like some piteous 
dead thing it lay in a grave of flowers. 

A groan of horror went up from the watching crowd. 
" The crown has fallen ! " " It is an ill omen ! " " It 



24 THE WINTER QUEEN 

means an evil fate ! " " 111 omen ! ill omen ! " ran from 
lip to lip. Yet, ere the whisper ceased, another fearsome 
thing befell, for Prince Friedrich's horse, grown restive 
too, reared and strained at the bit. In vain his Highness 
endeavoured to pacify the frightened animal, which 
plunged wildly forward between the men who had rushed 
to save the crown. The charger's forelegs became en- 
tangled in the long silken cords which hung limp and 
useless from the archway, and in an instant horse and 
rider were struggling on the ground, with the crown 
crushed beneath them. 

A brief scene of the utmost confusion ensued ; the 
other princes' steeds, affrighted too, reared and kicked 
violently, while the panic-stricken mob surged forward. 
An arquebusier by mistake discharged his weapon, and 
some one in the crowd raised a cry of " Murder ! " 

" Silence ! silence ! " cried Prince Friedrich loudly, as, 
aided by his attendants, he freed himself from the 
struggling horse. 

" Silence ! See, it is nothing ! I am unhurt, and even 
poor Warflame is none the worse," he said, as he stroked 
the charger, who now stood quietly, though with wild 
eyes and trembling flanks. 

" And now, my lords ! " he cried, turning to the other 
cavaliers, " now let us ride on apace, for her Highness will 
be disturbed by our absence," He remounted and rode 
rapidly onwards, followed by the princes. 

The Lady Elizabeth, in her gilded coach, had seen 
nothing of all this. She was smiling serenely, and, when 
Prince Friedrich appeared at her carriage-door, she rallied 
him gaily on his dallying. And so the cortege passed on 
its way right merrily; but there was a shadow on the 
souls of many who had beheld the ungainly incident, 
and men whispered that Destiny had sent a warning of 
disaster to Heidelberg that day. 

Slowly the coach ascended the steep, narrow road from 
the town to the castle, but at length the first drawbridge 
was reached, and in thunderous voices the cannon pro- 
claimed that the new Princess Palatine had entered the 



HER NEW HIGHNESS PALATINE 25 

precincts of her sumptuous stronghold. The splendid 
train wound its way to the inner keep. At the second 
drawbridge Elizabeth was greeted with a flare of trumpets, 
and as her coach rumbled under the ancient stone arch- 
way, salvo upon salvo of cannon rent the air, and the 
sound flew on the wings of Echo and rolled in a hundred 
phantom salutes through the valley between the long, 
low hills. 

Now came the moment whereon the Countess Juliane 
had waited in such yearning of spirit. Ceremony's iron 
hand had lain heavy upon the mother's heart, and this 
same dull tyrant had ordained that she should greet her 
son's wife only after the bride had crossed the castle's 
threshold. Juliane had longed to welcome the Lady 
Elizabeth at the door of the Saalbau, but Ceremony had 
leagued with another tyrant, Custom, and had decreed 
that the meeting-place should be in the Hall of Mirrors. 
And so the Countess-Dowager, at the head of a bevy of 
princesses, stood waiting in the centre of the hall. Below, 
at the door of the Saalbau, Elizabeth was received by the 
first nobles of the land, and was escorted in state up the 
winding stairway. 

The Lord-Marshal entered the hall first. He smote 
the marbled floor three times with his staff of office, and 
proclaimed in ringing tones the arrival of : " The Lady 
Elizabeth, Princess of England, Scotland, Ireland, and 
France, Countess Palatine, our gracious Lord Friedrich's 
most noble spouse." 

For an instant Elizabeth Stuart stood on the threshold, 
while the assembled princesses and ladies of high degree 
bent low in ceremonious greeting. Her Highness re- 
sponded with a profound obeisance, but her eyes sought 
the tall, dark-robed figure which stood immovable in the 
midst of the bowing group. Elizabeth stepped forward and 
again bent low, this time only to the Countess Juliane, 
and there shone on her face the magic of that slow smile 
for which thousands of gallant men have died, which 
poets of all centuries have sung, and which haunts the 
world's memory long after the doomed race of Stuart has 



26 THE WINTER QUEEN 

perished. And the Countess Juliane, touched by the 
sweet witchery of Elizabeth Stuart's smile, defying Cere- 
mony and banishing Custom, came forward with hands 
outstretched. 

" Welcome ! welcome, madame ! " she said aloud. And 
drawing Elizabeth to her heart, she murmured brokenly : 
" Ah ! my child, be good to him, for all his soul is yours 
to make or mar." 

" I love him well, madame ma mere," Elizabeth 
whispered back ; " and, if God wills it, I shall be for ever 
his faithful wife and right good friend." 

" God help you to it, madame ma fille," Juliane 
answered solemnly. 



CHAPTER II 

HEIDELBERG 

" Le repos est un meuble qui ne se trouve pas es grandes cours oil 
la foule et I'embarras habitent ! " — Spanheim. 

THE first few days of Elizabeth Stuart's sojourn in 
Heidelberg were restless witb continuous pageants 
and merrymakings, and slie could have found it in 
her heart to wish for some quiet hours when she could 
forget that she was the first player in a great drama, a 
little span of time wherein she could be but a young and 
happily wedded wife and not a princess of political im- 
portance. Indeed, the eyes of all Europe scrutinised the 
new Princess Palatine, for she was the living link between 
Protestant England and Reformed Germany. The Cal- 
vinists regarded her as one on a side path towards salva- 
tion, and if she were not walking in the narrow and only 
way, at least she was approaching thereunto ; for the 
Church of England, though unfortunately Lutheran in 
doctrine, was yet an ally of the English Puritans or 
Calvinists, those bulwarks of the ship of God. The 
Lutherans looked to her as to one of their own faith who 
would protect them from their hated brethren in Christ, 
the Calvinists. The Catholic world viewed her as a new 
power of evil, as a worldly strength gained by the heretics, 
and yet they watched narrowly, for, Anne of Denmark 
having returned to the only fold of the Catholic Shepherd, 
it might fall out that so young a princess had inherited 
a little of her mother's bias towards Rome. In Austria's 
vision the balance of European power was dangerously 
listed to the Protestant side by this union. France 
viewed the matter calmly, as, at present, her interests 
were not deeply involved. Spain cast glances of sombre 

27 



28 THE WINTER QUEEN 

hatred towards Heidelberg, for it had been the dream of 
her most astute politicians to unite the widower Philip III. 
and Elizabeth Stuart, and thus establish the right of 
Spain to the Kingdom of England. In this scheme lay- 
increase of power for Spain and the stamping out of 
heresy in the British Isles. Anne of Denmark had striven 
to promote the match, partly because she was secretly a 
Catholic, but chiefly because she yearned with all the 
beautiful instincts of the ambitious mother's heart to 
see her daughter a Queen. Anne had been willing to 
give her child to the hereditary enemy of Denmark, 
Gustavus Adolphus, King of Sweden — anything better 
than that this daughter of kings should wed a paltry 
German prince ! 

" My daughter to be Goody Palsgrave ! " she had cried. 
" Perish the thought, dear heart ! " This to the British 
Solomon, most ungainly, sure, of all the " dear hearts " 
which the whimsies of wifely nomenclature have endowed 
with this name ! 

But " dear heart James " had proved obstinate ; and 
though he coquetted with Spain, and wrote letters to 
France for the affiancing of his Elizabeth with the young 
Louis XIII., though he even waxed eloquent on his 
fatherly love prompting him to keep his daughter unwed 
to be a future virgin queen — an Elizabeth II. of England 
— he had really always meant to give her to the Prince 
Palatine. And so he sent her off at last, as the fair link 
of Protestantism, God's chosen vessel, and armed with 
strict injunctions to give precedence to none save queens 
and empresses, an she chanced to meet such in life's path. 
So the sweet youth of Elizabeth Stuart was heavily 
weighted by political considerations ; yet if she wearied 
sometimes of her overwhelming role she gave no sign 
thereof, and seemed a right merry, gracious lady, enjoying 
to the full the cup of love and happiness which life held 
to her lips. 

The wedding festivities ended with a grand tourney, 
recalling the chivalrous days of old ; but the spirit of the 
age was far different from that which drew the valiant 



HEIDELBERG 29 

to the lists in bygone centuries. No longer did each 
knight seek honourable advancement by mighty deeds of 
prowess ; no longer was the guerdon the favour of some fair 
lady, or the achievement of renown and chivalrous fame. 
In the seventeenth century the prizes were large sums of 
money ; and though the tourney was a sport involving 
a certain degree of personal risk, and demanding good 
horsemanship, courage, and skill, yet was it withal but a 
charming conceit, a graceful mumming to adopt the rules 
of chivalry and play at the manners of knightly days. 
Yet chivalry is an instinct of the human heart, and 
especially of young, ardent, and enamoured hearts, and 
the princes and nobles at Heidelberg played their parts 
with zest. Already Elizabeth Stuart had conquered a 
small army of impassioned votaries ; it was ever her 
destiny to inspire devotion, and not a few of those who 
had seen her enter her town of Heidelberg had secretly 
vowed her a romantic fealty. And here at the tourney 
they might offer her their homage without fear of seeming 
importunate. By the rules of chivalry they were bound 
to lay the reward of their success at the feet of some 
fair lady, bound to offer to a woman this token of their 
worship of womanhood. 

Mistress Anne Dudley, her Highness's lady-in-waiting 
and close friend, had been besieged by gallants, who begged 
to be told what would be her Highness's colours for that 
day ; and finding Mistress Anne but too discreet, the 
gentlemen had not scrupled to invoke the aid of the 
Princess's tiring-women. But these damsels, standing in 
awe of Mistress Anne's displeasure, had also proved obdur- 
ate ; and none knowing what were her Highness's colours, 
many knights had ridden forth without silken scarves 
across their breasts, or rosettes to deck their helmets. 

A vast concourse of gaily clad townsfolk stood against 
the barriers round the lists, and there was not wanting 
in eager sightseers from the countryside, whose peasant 
dress added to the varied collection of quaint costume. 
By her new Highness Palatine's own desire, all who came 
were to be permitted to see what they could of the jousting. 



30 THE WINTER QUEEN 

"Must you charm even the villeins by your sweet 
thought for them, beloved ? " Prince Friedrich had asked 
when the Lady Elizabeth had proffered this request. 

" Her Highness is but too full of gracious con- 
descension," had grumbled Count Schomberg, her lord- 
marshal. "It will be a hard task to arrange for all the 
rabble to be allowed to peep at the lists." 

Yet Count Schomberg had been easily silenced by a 
glance from fair Mistress Anne Dudley, who had stolen 
his heart when he went into England with his Highness. 
Thus it fell out that a great crowd stood and watched the 
jousting, and the Lady Elizabeth was lauded as the most 
gracious lady in all the world. 

In the centre of the long wooden gallery which had 
been built round the lists, her Highness and her ladies 
were seated beneath a wide, crimson, silken canopy. The 
Lady Harrington was there, the new Princess Palatine's 
former governess and faithful friend ; my Lord Harrington 
too, a grave and learned nobleman, who had been one of 
the brightest ornaments of the Elizabethan Court, and 
had dedicated his life to the service of Queen Elizabeth's 
godchild, Elizabeth Stuart. For James had chosen his 
mother's murderess to be godmother to his eldest daughter. 
True, Queen Elizabeth had been his own godmother, but 
that had been in the vanished days of Scotch and English 
pseudo-friendship; and when James prayed her to be 
" gossip and name-mither to the bairn," Marie Stuart's 
blood cried unavenged to Heaven. James had the accom- 
modating memory of the wise statesman ; but alack ! an 
God had not granted to the human heart the trick of 
forgetting, who could e'er be gay ? 

And right merry was the company beneath the crimson 
dais at the Heidelberg tournament that June morning. 
Mistress Anne Dudley was there, her soft brown eyes 
a-smile, and her fair, fragile face a-blush at the whispers of 
stalwart Count Schomberg. The young Countess Amalia 
Solms stood near, a trifle awkward and Teutonic perhaps, 
yet like some well-bred mare of a heavy race, florid and 
comfortable. Then there were Princess Charlotte of the 



HEIDELBERG 31 

Palatine, Prince Friedrich's sister; and the Princess 
Catherine. The Countess Juliane had pleaded fatigue, 
she who usually never owned herself weary ; but already 
King James's injunctions to his daughter anent precedence 
had achieved a certain coolness between the Electress- 
Dowager and her new Highness Palatine. Besides, Juliane 
feared and disliked tourneys, as all the world knew. 

So only youth and joy were present on that summer 
morning, save my Lord of Harrington and his lady ; but 
the happiness which shone from Elizabeth's eyes seemed 
to have banished the shadow of years from her devoted 
friends' souls, and both my lord and my lady jested and 
revelled with the zest of youth. 

His Highness Prince Friedrich entered the lists, eager 
to exhibit his skill and courage to his beloved. He wore 
splendid armour, wrought in finest steel and inlaid with 
gold by one of those patient craftsmen of Niirnberg who 
followed faithfully the traditions of the goodly armourer, 
Master Peter Vischer, Upon Friedrich's breast a scarf 
of azure silk and on his helmet a little ribbon of sky-blue 
betrayed to the envious gallants that this was Elizabeth's 
colour. Twenty times was his Highness victorious, for 
twenty brave knights were unhorsed by his mighty lance ; 
but Prince Christian the younger of Anhalt robbed his 
Highness of the first prize, for twenty-three times the 
heralds proclaimed him victor, and twenty-three purses of 
gold did the Lady Elizabeth bestow on her young kinsman. 
The stripling's prowess had won the favour of the crowd, 
and when for the twenty-third time he kneeled before 
her Highness to receive the prize, a loud, enthusiastic 
shout went up. And sure he made a gallant figure as he 
kneeled bareheaded, slight and almost girlish, with his 
light straw-coloured hair rufiled from his helmet's rude 
touch, his face flushed, and his blue eyes ablaze. Ritter 
Christel they had dubbed him to distinguish him from 
his father, the aged Prince Christian of Anhalt. And 
" Long live Ritter Christel ! " they cried right lustily. 

" Methinks you are a very valorous knight, my lord ! " 
her Highness laughed, as she handed him the prize for 



32 THE WINTER QUEEN 

the twenty-third time. " A valiant knight, and a most 
wealthy gentleman ! " 

" Ah ! mock me not, madame," he said in a low voice, 
" I would fain win renown in more earnest battles, and all 
I won I would lay at your feet, sweet cousin. But now 
I have a prayer to make. Wilt grant it, cousin ? " 

" Ritter Christel, Ritter Christel," she answered, laugh- 
ing, " dost crave another purse of gold ? " 

" Nay, madame, but the honour of bearing your colours 
for ever on my breast and on my helmet ; no gold can 
buy such proud happiness," he said. 

" My lord ! " she cried, as Prince Friedrich mounted 
the steps from the lists, " my lord, a gallant knight craves 
the honour of bearing my colours for ever and a day, as 
they say in the fairy stories ! Have I your permission 
to grant him this ? " 

" God knows, madame, we all wear your colours hidden 
in our hearts ; so why should not my cousin here chal- 
lenge the world with them on his helmet ? " he answered, 
laying his hand affectionately on the kneeling youth's 
shoulder. 

" Why, then, Ritter Christel," she cried, laughing, " I 
bestow my favour on you ! " Tearing a sky-blue ribbon 
from her corsage, she held it out to Prince Christian. 
He caught her hand and laid a kiss upon it ; then 
springing up, he bound the ribbon on his arm, saying : 
" Till death ! " 

So the long summer day passed in joustings and merry- 
makings, tilting at the ring, and feats of arms. In the 
evening after the banquet a fine pageant took place in 
the moonlit gardens, and, for fear false Cynthia should 
bestow but few white rays that night, torches and lamps 
had been set among the flowers to light the revels. It 
was a masque, written by my Lord Achatius d'Hona ; 
and though it matched not the gay beauty of good Master 
Ben Jensen's masques, such as her Highness had known 
at Whitehall, still it was a right merry piece, and rich 
in eulogies of England's Pearl. There was Hercules in 
a lion skin, shouldering his giant club, and offering 



HEIDELBERG 33 

Elizabeth the homage of the strength of the world ; Mars, 
god of war, kneeled defeated before her ; Orpheus laid a 
golden lute at her feet ; a bearded figure of Neptune, 
followed by dainty mermaids and grim men of the sea, 
swore fealty and service to her; the nine Muses pro- 
claimed her to be their long-sought sister, the tenth 
Muse, and greater than themselves ; while Jason, in the 
person of Prince Friedrich himself, spoke some noble 
verses, telling how he, the new Jason, would tame not 
only fire-breathing bulls, as did his Greek prototype, but 
that he would conquer all the world for the guerdon of 
her smile. Prince Christian the younger of Anhalt, with 
sandaled feet and winged heels, appeared as Mercury, 
having left the service of the gods to be in future the 
messenger of the fairest of all goddesses, Elizabeth Stuart, 
he avowed. 

At length the mumming ceased, and the ladies resumed 
their black- velvet masks, fearful of the freshening evening 
breeze which had sprung up and, like some over-bold 
lover, sought to ravish the roses of the ladies' cheeks. 

In vain Scultetus, his Highness's preacher, let it be 
known that even this frivolous evening must close with 
prayer in the castle chapel. Youth and the fragrant 
June night conspired together to banish gravity and 
elude sleep, and Scultetus preached but to drowsy dow- 
agers and weary greybeards. Youth was abroad in the 
castle gardens, and wotted not, for one night, of Calvinistic 
preachings. 

Even honest Count Schomberg had wandered away, 
and it was no wonder that Mistress Anne Dudley was 
amissing. There were ladies with tall lace rebatoes round 
their graceful necks, and huge fardingales round their 
waists, with underskirts so heavily broidered that they 
fell like metal bells to the ankles, and displayed the 
long, square-toed, high-heeled shoes and the ribbon "roses" 
sparkling with gems. These ladies wore little velvet 
caps, bejewelled and beplumed, on their high-piled hair ; 
or, an my lady was in the very newest mode, she had 
simplified her hairdress, to allow of her wearing the 

c 



34 THE WINTER QUEEN 

higli-crowned hat, with sweeping plume and jewelled 
buckle, which was copied from my lord's headgear. 
Beside these ladies there sauntered gallants in velvet 
cloaks, slashed doublets, and trunks a-puffed to so enor- 
mous a size that below them, from knee to ankle, the 
leg in its silken hose looked ridiculously elegant. They 
had stiff, upstanding pickadells around their necks, and 
lovelocks which just reached to these wheel-like lace 
and linen collars. 

Thus attired, my lords and ladies wandered through 
the moonlit gardens — gardens as straightly gowned as 
themselves, with formal flower-beds, clipped bushes, and 
fountains where even the water seemed to have caught 
the mode of stiff precision which was the elegance of the 
age. And yet the poetry of the summer night sighed 
through the trim garden, the thrilling silence and mystery 
of night. The sweetness of the roses from her Highness's 
rosery, which Friedrich, prince of lovers, had caused to be 
planted for her even ere she came out of England, was 
wafted deliciously on the still air by some soft breeze, 
some zephyr imperceptible save to the vagrant fragrances 
ever seeking a carrier with whom to wander out into the 
world. 

On to the wide terrace before the Friedrich's Bau 
came a tall figure, slim with youth's grace in spite of 
fardingale and heavy skirt, a woman masked in black 
velvet, and wearing from her shoulders a full black- 
velvet cloak. She came slowly onwards to the low para- 
pet, and leaning there, looked down into the silent valley, 
where the moon had magicked the river Neckar to a 
silver pathway, a placid stream of light flowing through 
the dark lowland. The moon also sent her rays like 
mysterious messengers over the long, low hills beyond 
the valley, while on the terrace she wrought strange 
arabesques out of the shadows from the castle. The 
woman waited on some one surely, for she turned her 
head ever and anon as though listening for some well- 
loved foot-tread to break the enchanted silence. 

Master Scultetus, his preaching finished, betook him- 



HEIDELBERG 35 

self from the chapel towards his lodgings in the Biblio- 
thek Bau, and the soft night air seemingly whispered 
some sweet message even to his harsh heart ; perhaps 
some memory of youth disturbed the dry cobwebs of 
theology which networked his mind ; and he, too, paused 
near the vaulted passage leading from the courtyard to 
the terrace. As if in a frame the picture lay before 
him : the little turret at the end of the parapet clear in 
the wan moonlight; beyond, the long line of the hills, 
dark and eerie against the deep night blue of the 
sky ; and like a visible presence, the rich fragrance of 
the roses from her Highness's rosery came to greet the 
stern theologian. For a moment the witchery of the 
night held him in thrall — how beautiful it was ; how 
beautiful ! The swish of silken skirts upon the stone 
paving of the terrace broke in on his reverence's pon- 
dering ; the sound of a hurried footfall summoned curi- 
osity and that instinct for interference in the actions of 
others, which is so noble a companion to Faith in the 
souls of the godly, came and banished all useless admira- 
tion of Nature's beauty from Scultetus' thoughts. 

" How now ! lovers philandering ? I must look to this," 
he muttered, and, proceeding a few steps onward, he 
ensconced himself in the deep shadow of the archway 
leading on to the terrace. He peered across the moon- 
light with his shortsighted eyes. Yes, a man in a 
sombre mantle stood beside a woman's figure leaning on 
the parapet near the little turret. Scultetus, if he had 
nearsighted eyes had sharp hearing, and also his soul's 
vision was wide with unclean suspicions and distrust of 
human nature. He rejoiced in the Lord at having sur- 
prised a wanton couple; he was verily uphfted at the 
divine leading which had brought him forth to punish 
such carnal triflers. Meanwhile, being a man of prudent 
habits, he decided to listen to the lovers' talk, and to con- 
found them afterwards with a repetition of their lewd say- 
ings. For a few moments the lovers were silent, leaning 
there side by side against the parapet ; then his reverence's 
patience was rewarded, and he heard the man speak. 



36 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" Ah ! heart of mine," he said, " what rapture to be near 
thee ! Methinks it is flame that thy sweet lips breathe 
into my every vein in each kiss." 

" Beloved, beloved," she murmured low. 

" My queen, my soul, love of my life ! can such delicious 
hours be given to mortal man ? Thou makest me in 
truth a god, a god by thy passion, sweeting ! Thou makest 
me proud for all eternity by thy kiss ! " 

" Ah ! dear my lord, I would that Cupid could teach 
me a hundred ways of love to make thee blest ! " she 
said, and even the listening Calvinist thrilled at the 
tenderness in the woman's voice, that voice which he 
seemed to know so well. 

" Yet love is short, they say ; but sure for us it cannot 
be, for in all the ages none have loved as we ! Ah ! no, 
with us it is no trance of passion. We shall always love, 
and glory in the delights of love ! " He drew her close, 
and, lifting the little flouncing of black velvet which hung 
from her mask, he kissed her lips while she lay weak and 
trembling in his arms. 

" Now," thought Scultetus, " now I can confront these 
wantons. Unhand yourselves, ye votaries of lust ! " 
he thundered, coming forth from the shadow. " What ? 
Beneath her new Highness Palatine's own windows 
you would profane the world with such vile sayings ! " 
The lovers sprang apart, startled at the preacher's 
denunciation. 

" Sir, you forget your place," the man cried haughtily. 

" My Lord Friedrich ! " stammered the discomfited 
divine. 

"Yes, Master Scultetus," said the woman, laughing. 
" Our dear Lord Friedrich and — " she plucked her mask 
from her face, " and his faithful spouse, Elizabeth of 
England." 

" I crave your Highness's pardon — madame, I 
knew not — I did not recognise — my lord, I am 
abashed " 

"You must have known my voice, sir, an you lis- 
tened, which no doubt you did," cried Friedrich scorn- 



HEIDELBERG 37 

fully. " I beg you begone, sir ; I like not listeners in my 
house ! " 

" Ah, good my lord," said her Highness, coming for- 
ward. " His reverence but errs through too much zeal ! 
In the code of stern moralists perchance, there is no 
room for wedded love ; or rather is it not the custom for 
a wedded couple to play at lovers thus ? " 

" Madame, at Whitehall such may be the case, but — " 
began Scultetus with asperity. 

" Sir, this is too much ! " his Highness cried. " You 
venture, then, to disparage " 

" Sweet heart," Elizabeth broke in, " his reverence sure 
does not know your voice when you are speaking such 
soft words, he only knows the tone of argument. Now, 
enough ; good night. Master Scultetus," and she bowed 
her head, dismissing the crestfallen guardian of morals, 
who, making profound if awkward obeisance, hurriedly 
withdrew. 

" Nay ! I am wroth, dear love ! " Prince Friedrich said ; 
" that fool preacher has broken the spell of beauty which 
was over us ! It was sacrilege, for such rapture is a sacra- 
ment of love " 

" Be not wroth ; let us not waste this delicious hour 
with angry thoughts. Come, dear my lord, forget the 
fierce preacher, and let us tarry a brief while longer 
here." She drew him to her, and beneath her kiss he 
forgot preacher and anger and the world itself. 

Suddenly from below in the gardens there came the 
echo of a song. The lovers turned to listen. 

" It is Christian singing," whispered Prince Friedrich, 
" Christian, whom you call Hitter Christel, toi charmeuse 
de tons coeurs ! " 

" Harken ! my lord, it is an English lay he sings," she 
whispered back. 

" Oh ! eyes that pierce into the purest heart ! 

Oh ! hands that hold the highest thoughts in thrall ! 
Oh ! wit that weighs the depth of all desart ! 

Oh ! sense that shows the secret sweet of all ! 
The heaven of heavens with heavenly power preserve thee, 
Love but thyself, and give me leave to serve thee." 



38 THE WINTER QUEEN 

The young voice rose in a passionate strain, and with 
a depth of truth and yearning which sent an added 
thrill to the lovers on the terrace. 

" Poor Christel ! he sings his passion for thee — sings it 
to the stars as he may not sing it to thee," Prince Fried- 
rich whispered. 

" To the stars, yes," she answered ; but she smiled to 
herself, for she knew that Christel sang below in the 
rose garden, and that she alone must have heard him 
singing had she been where he supposed her, in her 
chamber above, whose windows looked out over the 
terrace and the rosery. 



CHAPTER III 

QUIET DAYS 

" Ich kniee vor Euch als getreuer Vasall, 
Pfalzgrafin, schonste der Frauen ! 
Befehlet, so streit' ich mit Kaiser und Reich, 
Befehlet, so will ich fiir Euch, fiir Euch 
Die Welt in Fetzen zerhauen ! " 

— Joseph Victoe von Schbffel. 

NOW came a time of quiet at Heidelberg, a sweet- 
ness of unhurried days. The princes and nobles 
had returned to their various domains; only Prince 
Christian of Anhalt — Ritter Christel, as the whole Court 
now named him — only Christel lingered, and none found 
it in their hearts to wish him gone. He was so young 
and gay, and withal so gentle and thoughtful, and men 
said that his hopeless love for the Lady Elizabeth had 
taught him a wonderful goodness ; that love had made 
of him a saint ; and that whereas unrequited love usually 
turns a man's soul bitter, his seemed beautified and 
sweetened by his unselfish devotion. Even the Countess 
Juliane smiled at his ardent service of her new Hiofhness 
Palatine ; none could blame so pure a flame it seemed. 
There was nothing of the lovesick swain about him, no 
hint of puerile gallantries, only a glad devotion, an un- 
stinted giving. And Elizabeth Stuart smiled at his love, 
accepting the homage of his worship unheedingly, for all 
her thoughts were given to Prince Friedrich. Albeit 
without seeking it, she needs must charm whoe'er came 
within the radiance of her smile and the magic of those 
strange, dark eyes, haunted as they seemed by the presage 
of some tragic destiny. There was something elusive — 
mysterious — about her, some hint of romance which 
enthralled the whole world. She had abundantly that 

39 



40 THE WINTER QUEEN 

fateful charm which Marie Stuart had wielded to her un- 
doing — a gift of God or of Satan to the Stuart race. This 
living magic had seemed dead in James I. of England, 
and men seeing the uncouth king, recalled dark stories of 
his birth and how it had been whispered that Queen Marie 
of Scots had borne a dead child at Edinburgh Castle on 
June 19th, 1566, and that a peasant's brat had been placed 
in the ancient oaken cradle of Scotland's kings. But 
Elizabeth Stuart gave the lie to these fond tales, for the 
hereditary charm worked mighty potent in her. 

What is this haunting charm which is given to a few 
mortals ? Beauty may be added to it, or withheld ; it 
is not powerful intellect which makes it, nor virtue, nor 
kindness; it is not always the desire to please, though 
usually les grandes charmeuses needs must throw their 
spell over all, they are compelled to enchant the villein 
or the scullery wench ; but yet, no effort of mind, no 
striving, can achieve charm. It is some intangible magic ; 
and those who have had it do not alone haunt their con- 
temporaries, but through the ages their names conjure 
devotion and thrill the souls of posterity. With the 
Stuarts there is the glamour of the lost cause which calls 
forth the chivalry of all generous souls ; there is the tragic 
destiny of a doomed race which touches the fount of 
pitiful reverence for sorrow which dwells in that strange, 
inconsequent god, the human heart. Yet other races 
have perished, other causes have been lost, but the 
Stuarts are enshrined in all minds as the most charmful 
beings of history. And long before the doom fell, long 
before the cause was vanquished for ever, the magic 
worked, until even the name of Stuart seemed a lure 
for the devotion of all men ! 

Elizabeth Stuart was the incarnation of this compelling 
fascination. In Germany it was said that Heidelberg 
was the new Court of Love ; but even the Calvinists 
could not smirch the purity of Elizabeth and her house- 
hold ; for though she banished austerity, she kept honour 
and noble decorum at her side ; and though she loved 
laughter, music, poetry, and dancing, she forgot not prayer ; 



QUIET DAYS 41 

though she lavished money on clothes and merry- 
making, her hand was never empty when the poor or 
hungry came to her, nor her heart too glad in her own 
joy to withhold the good sunshine of her tenderness from 
those who mourned. Each day the people of Heidelberg 
grew to love her more, and her sayings were repeated far 
and near. It mattered not that her English retainers 
were boastful and often insolent ; the people said that if 
her Highness knew it she would reprove them ; but for 
the most part they withheld their complaints from her 
for fear of casting a shadow on her happiness. Yet, on 
all human happiness shadows must fall, and the brighter 
the horizon the more intolerable is the smallest cloud. 
Two clouds were on Elizabeth s sky : King James's in- 
junctions concerning precedence, and the broils of her 
English attendants. 

My Lady of Harrington still tarried at Heidelberg, and 
she counselled Elizabeth to overlook her attendants' 
quarrels; but Count Schomberg was much concerned 
and pressed for the dismissal of the turbulent English- 
men. 

One summer day Elizabeth sat in one of the terrace 
turrets. Her embroidery frame was before her, but her 
hands lay a trifle listlessly on her knee, though ever and 
anon she caressed her pet monkey, who sat close beside 
her on the stone seat of the turret. 

" Art weary, sweet child ? " the Lady of Harrington 
inquired. 

" Nay, not weary, but this morning Schomberg came to 
me with a long history of the misdoings of Sir Andrew 
Keith. It would seem that some of the burghers in the 
High Street jostled him, and he called them greasy Ger- 
mans and beer louts. By an ill chance one among them 
had a few words English, enough to translate his taunt. 
They rated him back, and swords were drawn." 

" Good lack ! madame," said my Lord of Harrington, 
" 'tis a scurvy trick of Schomberg to annoy you with 
such tattle. A street broil means nothing and is very 
usual." 



42 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" Indeed, my lord," cried Mistress Anne hotly, " Count 
Schomberg is wise in telling this tale to her Highness. 
I keep the wenches in good trim or we should have an 
English faction and a German party in her Highness's 
own tiring-room ! And it is insuflferable if Sir Andrew 
cannot bridle his tongue and keep his stable varlets in 
order." 

" Ah ! Anne, be not wroth ! Schomberg is right, and 
my lord is right," said her Highness wearily. "I will 
speak with Sir Andrew, and let it be known in the town 
that he but lost that fiery member of his soul's com- 
plexity, his temper, as my royal father called it. Hans 
Steinberg ! " she called to a little page who stood near, 
" summon Sir Andrew Keith to me here." 

" Not now, madame," said my lord gravely, " this is not 
the place." 

" Tut, my lord," cried Elizabeth, a flash of anger in her 
sombre eyes, " it shall be where I will. Go, Hans, and 
swiftly ! " She turned to Harrington, repentant as she 
ever was when her quick mood had wounded any one : 
" Forgive me, dear friend ; I am sorry to disobey you, but 
let me this once do my will," she said. She was like 
some chidden child to her life-long friend and governor. 

" Madame, you are no longer a child to be ruled by 
me," he answered with a sigh. 

" Alas ! no. Those were good days at Combe, and I 
was mighty happy under your guidance ! I shall always 
return to Combe — always till the day of my death," she 
said. 

" Come, dear madame, no sad thoughts," said Lady 
Harrington. " In truth you will often return to Combe, 
and then you'll weary for Heidelberg." Her kind, quiet 
voice, her whole being, was so restful in its homeliness ; 
she always seemed the embodiment of the safety of the 
commonplace, the comfortable security of everyday. 

" In fact, as you used to say to me, dear lady," Eliza- 
beth laughed, " there never was a little maiden who had 
so much, and never one like me for always craving 
more." 



QUIET DAYS 43 

" That was when your Highness was a little maiden," 
said Lady Harrington peacefully, as she matched the hue 
of a silken skein against the brocade in her embroidery 
frame. " Now your Highness is a grown woman, and a 
wise, I trust." 

" Nay, nay, a little maiden for you always," her 
Highness said, and, leaning over, she kissed the elder 
woman's healthy pink cheek. Lady Harrington stroked 
Elizabeth's hand. 

" Your silks are in a tangle again, dear child," she said. 

" I always tangle the threads," her Highness answered 
ruefully. " I am a little maiden still in that, you see." 

•' Well, well, others besides little maidens tangle threads 
in this world," Lady Harrington replied, with that touch 
of homely wisdom which is the unconscious cynicism of 
those dowered with the most uncommon of all the senses 
— common sense. 

At this moment Hans Steinberg, the page, reappeared, 
followed by Sir Andrew Keith. Elizabeth rose and 
moved apart from the group in the turret. There was 
nothing of the little maiden in her mien now, but a 
dignity, a commanding manner which often came to her. 
Her monkey followed her, and springing upon the low 
parapet of the terrace, sat like some absurd old man, 
playing with shaky, eager little fingers with a silken skein 
of yellow thread which he had stolen from her Highness's 
embroidery frame. She patted the little creature's head, 
and then, turning to Sir Andrew, she said quietly : " How 
now, sir ? Did my father send you out of England with 
me as my master-of-horse, or as a swaggering swash- 
buckler to offend my subjects in my town of Heidelberg ? " 

" Your Highness cannot know the facts ! " cried Keith, 
in an excited tone. He was a tall, lanky, red-haired 
Scotsman, with harsh features and small, sharply glancing 
blue eyes. He looked a man of iron, quiet and sober, but 
those who knew him were aware that the quiet was a pit- 
fall, and that he was fierce and passionate ; quick to un- 
reasoning anger, and resentful as a small-minded woman 
of slights which existed for the most part in his own 



44 THE WINTER QUEEN 

suspicious mind. A loyal friend and a treacherous 
enemy, a combination unusual in the rest of mankind, 
but peculiar to the Highland Scotsman. He regarded 
Elizabeth Stuart as his kinswoman because legend re- 
corded that a Keith had wed a Stuart some ten genera- 
tions back. He had come to England along with Robert 
Carr, now preening himself at Whitehall as my Lord 
Rochester ; and Keith, being a penniless youth, had 
grabbed at the mastership-of-horse to her new Highness 
Palatine. They had tried to oust him from his post as 
soon as Elizabeth had arrived at Heidelberg, for he had 
shown himself sulky and touchy on the journey hither ; 
but he had clung to his oflS.ee, and grasped all he could 
of emoluments and perquisites. 

He stood now before Elizabeth proudly, for such men 
do not cringe, and reproof ahvays raises the fierce pride in 
them. There was a certain gaunt dignity about the man. 

" Madame," he said, " your Highness would not have 
me submit to rudeness from a German lout ? " 

" Nay, sir, if incivility were intended ; but I would 
have you know that such manners bring me disaffection 
in my townspeople. Who can speak in your defence, 
sir ? Who saw the quarrel ? " 

"The Baron Falkenberg, his Highness's master-of- 
horse, stood near, madame ; but I misdoubt me he will 
side with his countryman an you question him. We are 
strangers here — you and I, madame," he said boldly. 

" Strangers," she laughed. " Sir Andrew, strangers 
may be better friends than kinsmen sometimes. Come, 
vow me there shall be no more such fighting over trifles." 

" Your Highness asks me to submit to German loons ? " 
he cried hotly. 

" Tut, man, German loons are peaceful citizens. I bid 
you keep the peace," she said. 

" You do not know the rights of it, madame," he 
answered stubbornly. 

" Well, here comes Falkenberg ; I will ask him myself, 
sir." She beckoned the courtier to her side, and speaking 
in French, as was her habit to her German subjects, for 



QUIET DAYS 45 

she never mastered the German tongue thoroughly, she 
said: "Monsieur de Falkenberg, Sir Andrew begs you 
speak of what you saw yesterday in the High Street. 
Was my countryman subjected to insolence ? " 

Falkenberg hesitated ; he was no friend to Keith and 
wished him gone, but he feared the turbulent Scotsman. 

" Your Highness, I am not concerned in this matter," 
he said at last. "It should be dealt with by Sir 
Andrew's superior. Probably Count Schomberg is the 
proper person." 

" Sir, we are not bandying words like the first or second 
writers in a merchant's counting-house," cried Keith. 
" We cannot cope with your first in authority ! In Eng- 
land, sir, we speak as one gentleman to another, not as 
to who is in this or that office ! " 

Falkenberg puffed himself out like some offended 
rooster ; all the instinct of the German for office, autho- 
rity, and correctness seemed to swell within him. His 
eyes grew round, his face portentously solemn ; his 
cheeks puffed till his mouth looked ridiculously small. 
He was cursed with very short arms, and his comfort- 
ably rounded person caused him to hold them always 
a little curved, which gave him a more than naturally 
pompous air. 

"As master of his Highness's horse I am not in a 
position to pronounce on the actions of her Highness's 
master-of-horse," he said, and Prudence, that sour mis- 
tress who directs most Germans' actions, lived in every 
tone. Now it was not the man's words, but his attitude 
towards life which maddened Keith. 

" Falkenberg ! " he cried loudly, " you are a laughable 
loon yourself." 

" Sir Andrew ! " returned the other, " my honour for- 
bids me to hear such words ! I beg to challenge " 

" Oh ! the devil fly away with your honour ! " bawled 
Keith. " Cannot you speak out like a cavalier ? " The 
disputants each fell out of the French into their own 
mother tongues — Keith into broad, rough Scots, and 
Falkenberg into Rhenish German. The quarrel grew 



46 THE WINTER QUEEN 

loud, and my Lord of Harrington came forward out of 
the terrace turret to still the flood of angry words. 

" Gentlemen ! it is unseemly to brawl before her 
Highness," he called. 

But neither heeded him. Keith's rage was fairly let 
loose, and Falkenberg was blustering and asserting his 
own importance. It was an absurd scene, and her High- 
ness stood by and laughed, for she could never resist 
laughter when it came to her. Falkenberg made a 
vigorous gesture with his short, thick arm ; Keith thought 
it was a menaced blow, and, in an instant, both men had 
drawn their swords and were fencing furiously. 

The monkey sprang from the parapet and fled to 
Elizabeth, hiding his strangely human face in the folds 
of her ample skirts. At this moment Count Schomberg 
appeared on the terrace. 

" Hold ! " he thundered. " Hold ! you fools ! Know 
you not that her Highness is enceinte, and that this may 
frighten her to her harm ? " He caught Falkenberg 
by the cloak and dragged him back, while my Lord of 
Harrington hung on Keith's sword arm. 

Elizabeth leaned against the terrace parapet, her 
sombre eyes were ablaze with anger, and her delicate 
cheeks had flushed to the colour of a wild-rose petal. 
Keith stood sullen and fierce in my lord's grasp ; 
Falkenberg poured forth a torrent of German to Count 
Schomberg ; Lady Harrington attempted to support her 
Highness, and Mistress Anne Dudley ofi'ered her a little 
crystal flagon of potent essence. 

" Remove these gentlemen, Schomberg," her Highness 
cried, while she drew back haughtily from Lady Harring- 
ton's encircling arm, and pushed away the flagon with a 
trembling hand. 

Half-a-dozen courtiers had arrived on the scene ; they 
surrounded Keith and Falkenberg, and hurried them 
through the archway from the terrace to the court- 
yard. 

" Come, madame, dear love, and rest," said Lady Har- 
rington. "You feel no evil from this untoward noisi- 



QUIET DAYS 47 

ness ? " But Elizabeth Stuart gave no answer to the 
older lady's anxious queries. 

" Count Schomberg ! " she said, and threw back her 
head proudly. " Monsieur, who gave you leave to an- 
nounce the state of my health to all the world ? How 
do you know what is with me or what is not ? I forbid 
mention of such things to me or of me ! " 

" But, madame, think of the profound importance ta 
the whole Protestant cause which awaits this prince 
as its champion," Count Schomberg said in a heavy, 
pompous tone. 

" Harken to me, monsieur," cried her Highness vehe- 
mently. " If you all preach to me for ever of this prince, 
e'en an it be a boy, I'll dress him as a maiden and teach 
him to sew tuckers. That is," she added hastily, " if I 
am enceinte, which I deny — and which is also my affair 
if I am ! " 

" Sweet madame, did I ne'er give you lessons in logic 
at Combe ? " said Harrington, laughing. 

Her Highness's swift anger was past, and she laughed 
too. " Logic and men's wits ! Hey ! but I'll match my 
unlogic against them and get the best of the bargain ! 
And now. Count Schomberg, have my horses saddled. I 
would ride out and practise my new falcon at a sham 
quarry." 

"Madame, I entreat! — it is not safe for you to ride 
thus constantly ! Best and' " 

" Ah ! Schomberg, Schomberg ! an you say another 
word I'll order a tilting bout and tilt at the ring myself. 
Eor the nonce, sir, comprehend I am not enceinte ! " 
She laughed, and catching up her monkey, who had 
cowered half-hidden in her skirts all the time, she hurried 
away to change her gown for her green velvet riding- 
dress. As she passed up the winding staircase of the Fried- 
rich's Bau, they heard, through the open casements, how 
she sang an absurd little lullaby to the small, wizened-faced 
monkey, calling him her sweeting, her treasure, her dearest 
son, and only child. 



48 THE WINTER QUEEN 

Yet it was a peaceful time in Heidelberg, in spite of 
ripples on the surface caused by the Englishmen and by 
the question of precedence. The river of life was smooth, 
and political cross-currents only played beyond in the sea 
of European action. The Hapsburg Rudolf II., scholar, 
bibliophile, and lover of rare curios, had left his collec- 
tion in the Hradcdny at Prague, had left his unwieldy 
empire of turbulent religious factions, and had gone to 
his long rest in the year 1612. Matthias, his rebellious 
brother, had succeeded him ; and, in the intervals of 
warfare against the Turks and that daring adventurer, 
Bethlem Gabor, was laying the foundation of bitter strife 
by his refusal to recognise the Letter of Royal Protection 
wrested by the Bohemian Protestants from poor, weak, 
dreamy Emperor Antiquary Rudolf. England was much 
occupied by my Lord of Essex's coming divorce trial, and 
the Court was babbling of disgusting details and my Lord 
of Rochester's hopes; was wondering why Sir Thomas 
Overbury lay in the Tower, was whispering that they must 
hush him as he knew dark secrets, anent Prince Henry's 
death too ; the Court and its slobbering Solomon, thus 
busy, played for the nonce no part in the European con- 
cert. In France that amorous king, Henry IV., had 
perished, and Louis XIII. was growing up under Marie 
de Medici's care ; Sully, the noble statesman of a humor- 
ous monarch, was living retired in his quiet country refuge 
at Rosny, watching with grave eyes how Marie de Medici, 
the Regent, squandered untold wealth on her Concinis, 
and how politically she leaned ever more towards Spain 
since the affiancing of Louis XIII. to the Infanta Anna. 
It was the silence, the lull before the storm ; and at 
Heidelberg it was very still. 

The Lady Elizabeth went a-hunting, and danced in 
the evening in the stately Mirror Gallery. Lord and Lady 
Harrington still tarried at Heidelberg, and also Ritter 
Christel, who followed her Highness wherever she went. 
Friedrich himself took some part in the gay doings, 
but he continued his studies in policy and statescraft. 
Master Scultetus, the grim theologian, was his teacher. 



QUIET DAYS 49 

and daily he exhorted his Highness to be the champion 
of the down-trodden Calvinists; daily he read to him 
letters out of Bohemia, telling of ruined pastors ousted 
from their parishes, of churches built by Protestant com- 
munities now closed by Imperial mandate, of oppression 
and misery. Sometimes he recounted strange prophesies 
spoken by holy visionaries, of how a king would arise — 
another David — to smite the unholy Goliath of Austria, 
that servant of the High Priest of Antichrist, Scultetus 
worked on the fresh soil of Friedrich's young mind, sow- 
ing the seed of enthusiasm, and watering the sprouting 
seedlings with a gentle rain of personal flattery. Religious 
enthusiasm waxed strong, and beside that fast-springing 
plant another flowering tree grew up — Ambition. To 
tend this last Scultetus called Love to his aid; he said 
that the Lady Elizabeth was a queen among women, 
why should she not be the empress of a reformed 
empire ? 

" Man, where will you out with your dreams ? " cried 
Friedrich. 

" But, sir, has there not been an emperor among your 
forbears ? And why not again ? An emperor — a cham- 
pion of pure life — a helper of the oppressed — a king of 
the sweet and reasonable faith ? " murmured Scultetus. 

" God wot ! master, you are dreaming ! — and yet how 
fair a dream ! " said the lover of Elizabeth Stuart. 

"But the time is not yet," whispered the Calvinist. 
" Work, my Lord Friedrich. Work and watch and pray, 
that you may inherit the earth." 

" Yes, master, for the glory of God ! " said Friedrich, 
dreaming of Elizabeth as queen. 

Who that knew her could help dreaming of her as of a 
queen among women ? She was so beautiful, with her 
great sombre brown eyes, her auburn hair, her pale 
clear skin, where, on temple and breast, the blue 
veins showed like some delicate tracery of youth's own 
pencil ; her full, fresh lips, where lurked the magic of 
her smile, whose sunshine wandered up from lip to brow 
and lit the deep eyes to soft lustre. She was very tall 

D 



50 THE WINTER QUEEN 

and slight, yet witli broad, majestic shoulders, which 
supported the grand column of her neck and the long 
line of her young full throat. She, who was a king's 
daughter, looked a queen; and Friedrich, remembering 
Anne of Denmark's scornful naming of her " Goody 
Palsgrave," sighed, and wished he had been born a kiag 
to crown her queen. What mattered it that honest 
Schomberg complained she had not the proper dignity 
of an electress ? She was so young in her impetuosity, 
so merry, so proud, and yet so clinging to those she 
trusted — to the Harringtons, to Mistress Anne Dudley, 
to Schomberg himself. Schomberg opined that she 
trusted too easily. "Madame is so facile," he was for 
ever saying. Her own heart was full of sunshine, 
and it seemed that she could not suifer a shadow to fall 
on any one who was near her. She hated the disagree- 
ables of life more than other women — dreaded them a 
little, too — and Schomberg said that madame was weak ; 
but it was not weakness, for when she wanted anything 
she desired it violently, and was strong to achieve her 
will. Only for the smaller matters of life she was a 
little indifferent, and, feeling the longing of others for 
trifles, she must for ever be giving content by gratifying 
wishes. Money was a name to her. What ? was that 
poor wretch sad because he lacked a house ? That 
damsel weeping because she could not wed her penniless 
swain ? " Quick ! my casket where the English gold 
is hid — quick ! Let me make these sad ones merry 
again." And then her drolleries, for out of sheer gaiety 
and quick wit she was mighty droll at times ; said 
outrageous things which startled her hearers to laughter 
and alarm ; yet she was never coarse, for the fire of her 
true merriment burned out any stain of lewdness which 
might otherwise have spoiled the quaint quip. Such 
names, too, as she had for all ! — " Old Vinegar Snout," she 
called Scultetus ; " Pig's Face " was that magnificent, over- 
perfumed, ostentatious ambassador Hay, become my Lord 
of Doncaster by King James's favour, and allowed to 
journey right often to Heidelberg in order to see Eliza- 



QUIET DAYS 51 

beth, wliom he adored. " The Old Apple Woman " she 
named my Lady of Harrington, offering her a booth in 
the High Street of Heidelberg wherein " to ply the trade 
wherefore the Almighty had created her," so her High- 
ness said. Friedrich himself she spoke of as her " Nigger 
Drakelet " because of his swarthy skin and his duck-like 
waddle, she averred. Schomberg was " Monsieur Sans 
Ducat, Mar^chal de I'Ennui " ; Anne Dudley " Madame la 
Marechale Unwed." After a solemn wrangle anent pre- 
cedence, which had set discord between Juliane, Friedrich, 
and Schomberg, she would walk into the banqueting-hall 
holding her monkey at arm's length before her, and call- 
ing out gravely : " See, madame ma mere ! His splendid 
Highness Jack says he takes precedence of me ! Of a 
truth, his royal father wills it 1 " Then, when Juliane 
looked wounded at her levity, down was plumped Master 
Jack, and down went the Lady Elizabeth on her knees 
before the old Electress, and it was : " Madame ma mere, 
what does it signify ? You take precedence of my mother 
because you gave me Friedrich, while she only gave me 
myself ! " And she would kiss and cosset Juliane like a 
little maiden at a loved mother's knee. When they 
rode through Heidelberg, who would have recognised the 
stately lady ? Or when foreign guests sojourned in the 
castle, who would have believed this gracious, dignified 
Princess to be the winsome trickster that she was ? 

She had all the complexity of the spontaneous, all the 
contradictions of a grand and generous nature. She could 
be wayward as a silly child, wise and sensible as a grave 
woman, facile to weakness (as Schomberg said), and deter- 
mined as a warrior ; gentle and patient, and then a rough 
word or a cruel saying would awaken a very devil of rage 
in her, after the manner of her godmother-kinswoman, 
Elizabeth of England of splendid memory. 

She was silent where she felt most deeply, a silence 
which pride taught her, and those who said she was 
heartless little knew what tenderness was in her, and what 
capacity for pain. They thought she was unfeeling about 
her brother Henry, whose death had cast a shadow on her 



52 THE WINTER QUEEN 

wedding festivities ; for she spoke of him often, but always 
gaily as though he still lived, and none knew, save Fried- 
rich and Mistress Anne Dudley, that she spoke thus be- 
cause had she weakened the fortress of her soul by sad 
words, the yearning in her heart would have broken forth 
in tears and despair ; and then she could never have 
spoken of him again as she loved to do. There are some 
women who must e'en be silent thus, for their sorrow is 
too deep to bear the casual pity which would wound anew 
and defile the sanctuary of their mourning ; and these are 
the women whom the world always believes to be heartless. 
Early in August my Lord of Harrington and his lady 
took leave of Elizabeth and started on their tedious 
journey back to England. It was bitter to Elizabeth, for 
she felt that in parting from these trusted friends she bid 
farewell for ever to childhood's thoughtless gaiety. Lord 
Harrington had been a father to her, a vast deal more 
paternal than the egoistic James ; and Lady Harrington 
had ever been such a mother as the frivolous, foolish 
Queen could never have been, even had she kept her 
children at her side instead of giving them over from 
early childhood to the care of others. It was painful, 
too, for Elizabeth to know that the Harringtons returned 
to penury and debt in England ; and that this poverty 
was caused by the expenses intendant on their steward- 
ship for her — expenses not defrayed by the paltry sum 
given for her household by King James. Her Highness 
knew that her royal father would be generous — in pro- 
mises. She saw in memory's clear vision the King's 
solemn, false face, she heard him sneer in the privacy of 
the family circle : " Ech ! sirs, we hae fair stilled the auld 
cock's plaints, now let him gang his ain gait wi' his empty 
purse ! He canna get bawbees frae a man wha hasna 
ony ! " For his Majesty of England's speech relaxed 
into the broadest of Lowland Scots in private, and in 
public, too, for that matter, when his irascible temper 
burst forth. Elizabeth consoled herself by planning visits 
to England : how she would sojourn at Combe Abbey 
once more and wander in that delightful garden which 



QUIET DAYS 53 

she, as a little maiden, had named " my territories." She 
would revisit her Fairy Farm, where small cows, tiny 
Shetland ponies, and dwarf poultry had been kept for 
her. Her Fairy Farm ! Ah ! how good those days of 
childhood had been ! True, Mistress Tyrell, the nurse- 
woman, had oft reproved her Highness for the lack of 
dignity which prompted her to sport with peasant brats, 
but Elizabeth Stuart had made answer that they were so 
good to her — " so good and kind " — she said. And if 
my little Lady Phyllis Devereux, cetat. nine summers, 
had proved sullen or cross-tempered ; if Master Edmund 
Talbot had been rough or angry ; why, then, had Sally 
Jones, the smithy's daughter, been the better playmate, 
and Hal Titmouse, the cowherd's lad, the "sweeter gossip," 
as her Highness named it. 

When Miistress Tyrell had summoned the Lady Elizabeth 
home for the formal supper, saying, " Come, come, madame, 
it is time ! I pray your Grace to leave the pert varlets!" 
she had thrown her arms round Hal Titmouse's neck and 
had bid him farewell with a frank friendship she deigned 
not bestow on the serving-wench's upstart pretension. 

" Alack ! the beloved maiden reeks of the byre ! " had 
exclaimed my Lady of Harrington when Elizabeth re- 
turned, and then the sorry tale of her Highness and the 
cowherd's embrace had shrilled from Mistress Tyrell's 
righteous lips. 

" Leave the little maiden ! " had cried my Lady of Har- 
rington in her sound good sense ; and to Lord Harrington 
she had averred : " Leave her Grace, her sweet kiss is fair 
and honest, and no indignity, methinks, my lord, to the 
stable lad nor to her Highness." 

Then, too, there had been a small island in a little lake 
in the park, where forget-me-nots and irises, tall yellow 
kingcups, marsh-mallows, and fragrant meadow-sweet had 
succeeded one another in the task of beautifying Elizabeth's 
" Isle of Constant Spring," as she had called it. 

Yes, as she bade farewell at Heidelberg to my Lady of 
Harrington she vowed she would soon revisit Combe and 
these dear haunts of childhood. 



54 THE WINTER QUEEN 

But a week after tlie Harringtons had started on their 
tedious journey to England the news had come to Heidel- 
berg of how my lord had fallen ill of a malignant fever, 
and had died with tender words of remembrance of " my 
loved Lady Elizabeth " on his lips. Truly her Highness 
mourned him, and bitterly she reproached herself for every 
childish prank or petulant mood of hers which had troubled 
my lord in the bygone days. It was Elizabeth Stuart's 
first acquaintance with Death the Irrevocable. 

Autumn came to Heidelberg and made glorious the beech 
woods with crimson and gold, with russet and purple, and 
touched to splendour the long, low hills. But Summer was 
loth to leave the world that year, and it seemed as though 
she masqueraded under Autumn's cloak of many colours, 
so that Rain and Cold, recognising her beneath the dis- 
guise, stayed in affright away, hidden with Winter. 

Each day her Highness rode out, sometimes with her 
hooded falcon on her wrist, sometimes bent on long wander- 
ings through the quiet woods. Christel was always in 
attendance and Mistress Anne Dudley, but Prince Fried- 
rich often stayed at home, for much as he loved the gay 
expeditions, he was too punctilious in the performance of 
graver duties to neglect them even for Elizabeth's sake ; 
and the coming year would see him not only directing 
Palatine affairs, but acting as the acknowledged head of 
the Union of Protestant Princes, whose chief his father, 
Friedrich IV., had also been. Friedrich took himself and 
his position seriously, perchance a trifle heavily, mistaking 
heaviness for power and real weight. Yet his mind was 
too lovelit for thorough absorption in matters of State. 
He did his best, but his best was not good enough, not 
strong enough. He was a Prince Charming, a delightful 
lover, a true gentleman, a brave youth, but the good God 
had not made him a statesman or a strong man. The 
good God so often makes a man for one career and gives 
him another task. Is it one of the ironies of an all-seeing 
Providence, or do the angels shufile the souls and their 
destinies, and is God Almighty as puzzled as we are when 
He sees the crooked results ? 




■s> 






QUIET DAYS 55 

Once when riding through the golden woods her High- 
ness's horse shied at a figure which appeared suddenly 
from out a clump of hazel-trees at the outskirts of the 
forest. It was a tall figure dressed in vivid- coloured 
garments, a woman with a wildness of black hair hung 
with small gold coins and scarlet tassels. 

"Only a wandering Egyptian, sweet cousin," said Christel, 
as Elizabeth, startled, drew back. " See, yonder is their 
camp, the blue smoke from their fire is curling over the 
tree-tops." 

" What would she with me ? " her Highness asked, as 
the Egyptian stood in her way. " Ask her, Christel. I 
cannot go forward without riding over her." 

Meanwhile two of the huntsmen in their green coats 
and large tan-coloured felt hats, had dismounted and were 
endeavouring to drag the woman aside. She shook them 
off fiercely, and, drawing a dagger-pin from out her heavy 
hair, would have stabbed one of the men had his comrade 
not stayed her arm. The angry man raised his whip and 
would have brought it down on the woman's shoulders, 
but Christel sprang forward and bade him hold. The whole 
cavalcade had ridden up and formed a laughing group 
around her Highness, Christel, and the gipsy. 

" What would you, woman ? " called Elizabeth in her 
halting German. 

" There is Destiny in your face, lady," the gipsy re- 
turned ; " give me gold and I will tell your future ! " 

" Ah ! a soothsayer ! Well, would you see my hand ? " 
cried her Highness merrily, drawing off her embroidered 
gauntlet. 

" Nay, lady — 'tis written in your face ! But I reveal no 
secrets without my price." 

" Schomberg, give her a gold piece. Tut, man ! " she 
cried as Schomberg shook his head. " One gold piece 
cannot empty my treasury. See now, I want to hear my 
fortune read from my face ! " She dismounted, aided by 
Christel. " Now, soothsayer, predict me happiness ! " she 
said lightly. 

The woman looked at her with an earnest gaze for a 



56 THE WINTER QUEEN 

moment. " Take back your gold, lady," she murmured, 
and, flinging the coin on the ground, she would have fled. 

" Stay her, Christel, stay her ! " cried Elizabeth, her 
curiosity thoroughly aroused. Prince Christian caught 
the gipsy's arm. " No mumming, woman," he said sternly ; 
" you know who this lady is ? " 

" I only came into this countryside last night. You 
are from the Court, my pretty gentleman, but I know not 
who you are. Let me go — I dare not tell that lady what 
I read in her face — let me go — let me go " 

" Is it death you see ? " whispered Christian, his cheek 
blanching. 

" Not death but sorrow, great and long sorrow," she 
whispered. 

" Christel, you squire of dames ! " cried her Highness, 
" are you philandering even with the Egyptian ? Come ! 
I want my fortune told like any country wench at a fair ! " 

" Say something, woman — any foolery, and begone," 
Christel muttered, as he thrust the gipsy towards Elizabeth, 

" Nay, if I read a fortune I must read it true, or my gift 
of foreknowledge would vanish for ever," she cried loudly. 

" Tell me my future as you see it," said Elizabeth. 

Silence fell on the laughing group ; not a man of them 
but believed in signs, omens, and portents, and the woman's 
evident anxiety to be spared her task had struck a note 
of terror to the listeners' souls. 

" Lady, you order me to tell you ? Then hearken ! " 
the Egyptian said solemnly. " In your face is beauty — 
fatal to men's hearts." She paused, and a sigh of relief went 
up from the listeners. After all, it was only the old patter 
they had all heard a dozen times at country Kermesses. 

Some one laughed ; some one said, " A dark man loves 
her, and two fair men yearn for her." 

" Be silent ! " the Egyptian cried, in a voice so fiercely 
commanding that the laughter was stilled. " Be silent ! 
This is no merrymaking ! Lady, the day will come when 
you will rue that your beauty made one man to be rash 
for you, and hundreds to die for you. Failure is written 
on your brow, and long years to mourn failure. You will 



QUIET DAYS 57 

bring sorrow to those you love, despair to those who love 
you. I see you dying in a land beyond the sea, old, and 
lonely, and forgotten. There is doom in your glance, 
lady." 

A cry went up from the throng of huntsmen : " She is 
an evil witch — to the river with her ! " and rough hands 
were laid upon her. 

" Leave her to me," cried Elizabeth. " Woman," she 
said, " why do you say such dark things to me ? " 

"You ordered me to tell you, lady," returned the 
Egyptian, and there was a proud dignity in her mien. 

" Go in peace," said Elizabeth ; " and mark you," she 
added, turning to the courtiers, " I will have no harm 
done her. It is a foolish mumming, but she believes 
what she says. Here ! " she flung the woman another gold 
piece. " And next time we meet, prophesy me a happy 
future." She turned away carelessly, and remounted. 

" A foolish trick ; but I am thankful his Highness was 
not by, for he fears such things and deems them true, 
while I — ha ! Christel, a heron ! Quick! Master Falconer, 
off with the hood ! Up, merry lady, up ! See, she spies 
the quarry ! " she cried, as the falcon flew, rising to a mere 
speck in the still air high above the heron, which flew 
with outstretched wings over the open grassland towards 
a distant wood. 

" Christel ! the heron shows fight. See ! he is flying on 
his back. Good lack i and it is the young falcon ; will she 
know how to avoid the bird's spear beak ? She swoops ! 
she swoops ! Ah ! she has him ! — on ! on ! " Elizabeth 
Stuart galloped towards the spot where the antagonists of 
the air had fallen in a struggling mass. In her mind she 
had struck a childlike, fantastic bargain with Fate : If the 
falcon was speared by the heron's beak she would give 
credence to the Egyptian's warning ; if the heron lay 
vanquished beneath the falcon's claws, then all would be 
well with Elizabeth Stuart, and the Egyptian had spoken 
a fond tale. With beating heart she galloped on, followed 
by hawkers and falconers. 

" She has him ! she has him ! " she cried, as she came 



58 THE WINTER QUEEN 

to the fluttering combatants. " Thank God ! she has 
him." 

" Why so glad at the new falcon's prowess ? " asked 
Prince Christian, as he rode up. 

"Yes, Christel, I had wagered much just then," she 
said, laughing ; " I am a foolish maiden." But Christel's 
eyes told her she was fairer and more beloved than any 
one on earth, and that her foolishness would be wisdom 
in his thinking for ever. 

They rode home through the dusk of the November 
day. Behind them the sun was sinking in a red glory, 
but all the sky southwards was lit as with a rapture of 
remembrance of the passing of the Sun-god. The mighty 
castle loomed like some fairy palace. Silence brooded 
over all, and from out the township in the valley floated 
up on the still air the sound of those constantly recurring 
bells which regulated the lives of the orderly citizens. 
From the prayer-bell at break of dawn calling the work- 
men to rise and pray ere they began their tasks, to the 
curfew toll at nine of the night, the chimes proclaimed 
the order of the day. At eleven of the morning the bell 
rang out blithely, bidding the toilers cease their labour 
and refresh their bodies with food and drink ; again, an 
hour after noon, the tinkling sound announced that the 
midday rest was done, and that work awaited accomplish- 
ment. At set of sun the bell summoned the children 
home from school or play, and told the peaceful citizens 
that the evening meal was prepared. Then there came 
the deep toll of the curfew, bidding law-abiding men to 
cover their lights and rest. But each town according to 
its trade, of course, had other bells, though the chief 
hours varied little all over Germany. Then there were 
bells to announce events : birth, and marriage, and death, 
fire and danger, and the storm-bell, and one which sent 
a shudder even to stout hearts and a prayer to the most 
impious lips. This was the " Armesiinderglocke," the 
" poor sinner's bell," which was rung when a soul was sent 
to the eternal Tribunal by the hands of more righteous 
or more fortunate men. Death was the penalty for most 



QUIET DAYS 69 

offences in those days, and hardly a week would pass 
without the dread ringing of the " poor sinner's bell." 

As Elizabeth Stuart rode homewards through the 
crepuscule the evening chimes were ringing in the city. 

" Hasten, Christel," she said, " we shall be late; already 
madame ma mere is assuring herself that I shall not be 
in time for supper. Alas ! it seems to me that an we 
supped at midnight I should be there at one of the 
clock ! " she laughed. 

" It is time your Highness were returned," said Schom- 
berg, riding up. 

" Time, monsieur? Time and I fell out long ago. I 
am always pursuing the grim monster. Come, then ! " 
she cried lightly. She urged her horse forward and gal- 
loped up the road to the first draw-gate of the castle. 

" Madame, for the dear God's sake have a care ! " called 
Schomberg. " Madame, it is slippery beneath the arch- 
way of the inner bridge ! " But she paid no heed, and 
galloped as one pursued over the drawbridge and into the 
courtyard. 

"Care andTime are mighty troublesome tyrants, Schom- 
berg ! " she cried, as she dismounted at the steps of the 
Friedrich's Bau, where she stUl lodged. 

" Her Highness Juliane begs to wait on your Highness 
before supper, madame," said Sadillo, her major-domo, 
as she mounted the steps. Elizabeth shrugged her shoul- 
ders impatiently. 

" I have outraced Time for once, and now here is Care 
in the person of Madame Mere coming to hiuder me from 
conquering Time and getting to supper ! " she whispered 
to Mistress Anne as she hurried to her apartments on 
the first floor. Ere her Highness was dressed her page 
announced that the Countess Juliane was in the audience- 
chamber. 

" Quick ! give me my brocaded bedgown ! I cannot let 
Madame Mere wait till I put on all these fallals," Eliza- 
beth said, as one tiring-woman offered her the white satin 
underskirt, another stood ready with the stiff wheel-like 
fardingale of light-blue flowered taffeta, and a third held out 



60 THE WINTER QUEEN 

the short-waisted Dutch bodice of blue satin, while another 
busied herself with the lace rebatoe which would rise 
like a filmy half-frame behind the wearer's head. But, 
for the nonce, Elizabeth would have none of these ; for to 
don such garments, to tie the many little ribbons down 
the front of the bodice, to adjust the rich overskirt and 
the fardingale, and fasten with jewelled ornaments on each 
shoulder the finish of the rebatoe — all this needed many 
minutes' careful attention ! So, quick ! her Highness's bed- 
gown, a mantle of delicate brocade with large falling 
sleeves and soft laces and many bunches of ribbon. The 
women brought this garment, and Elizabeth Stuart was 
ready to receive the Electress Juliane. 

" I crave forgiveness, madame ma mere," her Highness 
said as she entered the audience-chamber. 

" Perchance my visit at this hour is irksome, madame 
ma fiUe," Juliane responded coldly, " but I have a matter 
of import to discuss." She paused. 

" Madame, your visit is always welcome, yet I returned 
a little late from the chase to-day, and I feared not to be 
in time for supper," Elizabeth answered. 

A smile passed over Juliane's lips. " A little late, ma 
fiUe — hum — hum — that were of a truth unusual ! Nay, 
I would not chide. Ah ! sweet child, let me speak as a 
mother. I have only your wellbeing at heart." Again she 
hesitated. A gulf of years lay between her and Elizabeth, 
that deep ravine across which the old judge the young 
timidly ; and the young, clear-sighted and intolerant, con- 
demn the counsels of the old. Sympathy may throw a 
bridge across this ravine, but it is a bridge which the heavy 
foot of disapproval breaks down and destroys instantly. 

" I have only your wellbeing at heart, ma fiUe," she 
repeated tremulously. "Believe me, you are unwise in 
exerting yourself at the chase as you do — it is not safe for 
you, and for the dear burden you carry it is full of risk." 

" But, madame, I have told you before that I feel better 
when I ride out," cried Elizabeth impatiently ; " and if it 
suits my health, sure it must be good for my child." 

" Nay, it is dangerous for both so near the birth. I have 



QUIET DAYS 61 

spoken before ; but, as your Higbness paid no beed to my 
warnings, I wrote to bis Majesty at Wbiteball. To-day I 
bave received a letter out of England." Sbe drew a folded 
paper from ber girdle. " Your royal fatber desires me to 
enforce our wisbes." 

" Madame ma mere, it is past a laughing matter ! " cried 
Elizabetb. " I am no longer a cbild to be cbidden tbus, and 
to bave my every action reported to bis Majesty ! He 
is no midwife, and cannot know wbat is best for me!" 

" Tbis is unseemly, madame," said Juliane sbarply. " If 
you will not listen to the wise reasoning of bis Majesty, 
you must indeed give credence to my experience. In Ger- 
many it is tbe custom to defer to tbe busband's motber in 
sucb matters." 

" In Germany, madame ma mere, no doubt ! But I am 
Englisb, and we bave other customs in our land," Elizabetb 
answered haughtily. 

"Pretty habits, of a truth, madame! Habits of a 
daughter taking precedence of her spouse's mother ! " 
cried Juliane. In a woman's dispute the grievance in 
discussion calls in the aid of many lurking antagonisms ; 
argument opens the door of anger and out rush jealousy, 
forgotten slights, and half-a-dozen old quarrels, and in this 
discordant crowd the original cause of variance is lost. 

" We must be served first, not only at banquets, but 
when there are no guests ! " the old Electress continued 
shrilly. " We disdain all but dishes prepared by our 
English kitchen-master ! We barken not to good Master 
Scultetus in his excellent discourses, we must bave an 
English divine to read us Lutheran doctrine ! " Tbe 
Electress Juliane paused for breath. 

" Is it of tbis you would speak, madame, or of my other 
misdoings ? " quoth her Highness. 

" I came to speak of your father's advice," Juliane 
said sadly, and passed her hand over her eyes where tbe 
tears had sprung. Elizabeth saw this, and ber heart 
grew tender. 

" Ah ! Madame ma mere, you weep ? Dear madame, 
I am a wayward bemg — forgive me ! I care no jot for 



62 THE WINTER QUEEN 

precedence — it is only according to my father's orders. 
But the chase, madame — it does not harm me — I 
cannot sit in a shut room and mope like a German 
woman," she cried. 

" Ma fille, you need not sit in a closed room, and Ger- 
man women do not mope more than others," said Juliane ; 
" but you must consider your health at this time." 

" I do consider my health, madame, in my own way ; 
but my way is not your way," Elizabeth answered. 

" No, our ways divide, your Highness, so greatly that I 
shall retire to my castle of Frankenthal as soon as the 
preparations for my reception are completed. But it is 
my duty to warn you of your unwisdom, and that I shall 
do always," the Electress-Dowager said gravely. 

" I am sorry, madame, that you should leave us," her 
Highness replied ; " yet perchance it is better so." 

" The old shall make way for the young, the mother 
shall be banished by the wife. It is ever thus," said 
Juliane bitterly ; " you will know the pain of it some day 
yourself, ma fille. It is the price of a mother's joy. But 
it is hard and bitter to give up our child to another woman 
— our child — for to a mother even the grown man is a 
child, always the little creature she has loved and tended." 
Juliane hid her face in her hands and wept. 

"Ma mere, ma m^re — forgive me — yes, you are right!" 
cried Elizabeth, flinging her arms round the old Electress. 
" Ma mere, listen ! I will not go a-riding again ; I will do all 
you say. Madame, we both love Friedrich. Ma mere, I 
love you too." The passionate generosity of her nature was 
aroused, and she pleaded with Juliane like a penitent child. 

" Ma fille, I thank you," said the older woman, drying 
her eyes. " You are a brave and generous heart ; God keep 
you so all the days of your life. Yes, I will go to Fran- 
kenthal, for the young must consort with the young ; and," 
she smiled through the tears which welled up anew, " and 
the young must e'en make the mistakes of youth, must buy 
experience with pain." 

" As you did, too, madame ma mere ? " said Elizabeth, 
with a little laugh. 



QUIET DAYS 63 

" As I did too, ma fiUe," replied Juliane gently. 

So it fell out that Elizabetli Stuart went no more a-hunt- 
ing that autumn. She occupied herself with watching the 
building of the new portion of Heidelberg Castle, which 
was to be her future abode, and with the choosing of the 
designs for the decorations of the private playhouse which 
Friedrich caused to be constructed on the spacious roof of 
the Dicke Thurm. Here in former ages had stood gigantic 
slings ready to hurl stones on an approaching enemy. Here, 
too, Friedrich IV. had placed heavy cannon. But in 1613 
war and siege seemed to be far off eventualities to Fried- 
rich v., and he laboured but to give entertainment to his 
well-beloved lady. Master Solomon De Caus, artist, archi- 
tect, engineer, vs^as summoned from France to replan the 
gardens, and Elizabeth Stuart passed many hours poring 
over drawings and designs, or wandering about the gardens 
with the enthusiastic Frenchman, who vowed that he would 
make of Heidelberg a very paradise. " Here should arise 
a flowering parterre ! " 

" Where ? " cried her Highness, for De Caus pointed at 
space over a deep fall of ground. 

" Here, your Highness, it shall arise, builded with rich 
earth a hundred feet up till " — he made a sweeping gesture 
in the air — " till here on a level with us shall lie an en- 
chanted garden ! " 

There were plans for fountains, wondrous devices where 
the water was tortured to a dozen shapes — jetted up, flung 
back, whirled round ; there were drawings of a hundred 
statues; of grottoes where mechanical instruments dis- 
coursed fair melodies, instruments set to their labours by 
waterworks, and others by the air of heaven. There was 
to be a bathing grotto : " Ici les dames seront les nymphes, 
Altesse, je n'en pourrais dessiner d'aussi belles ! " 

"When can these marvels be ready. Monsieur De Caus?" 
asked her Highness, and they spoke of all to do with the 
plan — except the cost of it. Elizabeth would have had 
the work to begin forthwith, but De Caus told her it could 
not be till after the frost and snow had been to Heidelberg 
and gone again. Now he could only plan, mark off men- 



64 THE WINTER QUEEN 

tally, and arrange whence should be procured the mountains 
of earth required for raising levels. This started them on 
another dream : they would fashion the rough hill-land, 
whence they would take this earth, into a walk for her 
Highness ; it should become a gentle grassy slope, an 
orchard as she had known in England. 

In the long hours after the evening meal there was no 
dancing now; for her Highness's condition did not allow of 
it, albeit the fardingale and the voluminous skirts did their 
duty right discreetly, and hid effectually even the contour 
of advanced pregnancy. This mad fashion of the fardin- 
gale came out of Spain, and had been invented, so scandal 
said, to hide the condition of a princess which should not 
have needed hiding. Be this as it may, the fardingale, a 
curse to ladies on other occasions, was a convenient and 
discreet friend during pregnancy. It suited her High- 
ness's humour sometimes to take advantage of this, and 
pretend surprise at the allusions of well-wishers ; and she 
steadily refused to receive the embassies of congratulation 
which came from all parts of Europe. It was no whim, 
she averred, but it brought mischance to congratulate 
before an event. This she set forth to her Highness 
Juliane ere she bid her farewell. The old Electress had 
remained steadfast in her resolution, and had journeyed 
to her dower-house at Frankenthal. She had departed 
in peace, though she had warned Friedrich and Elizabeth 
of the enormous expenditure they would incur if they 
sanctioned all De Caus' plans. There had been sharp 
words between mother and son, and unpleasant allusions 
on his part to the enormous list of items purchased at the 
yearly Frankfurt Fair by his father, Friedrich IV. Yet these 
quarrels had vanished at the farewell hour, as quarrels do, 
and the Countess Juliane had gone in peace. 

From England came the news that the divorce of my 
Lady of Essex had prospered, news, too, of her betrothal 
to my Lord of Rochester, and of his rise in rank to the 
Earldom of Somerset ; also mention of Sir Thomas Over- 
bury's death in the Tower. Beyond that there was talk 
of King James's empty treasury, of how the Commons re- 



QUIET DAYS 65 

fused to vote supplies, for though England was ruled by 
his Majesty, still, as a formality, the Parliament had to vote 
him monies — a mere formality destined to become a harsh 
and binding law. How little they dreamed what part the 
Commons would play in a few years' time ! Christmas 
was coming in peace this year of 1613, and at Heidelberg 
there reigned calm and prosperity. 

Shortly before Christmas it was announced that an 
embassy would journey from France to congratulate 
his Highness Palatine — and incidentally her Highness — 
on the prospect of an heir. 

" I will not receive them ! " cried Elizabeth ; " I hate 
this talk before the child is there." 

" It is only a ceremony, dear heart," explained 
Friedrich. 

" I will not, and I will not ! " said her Highness, 
and abode by it. 

They arrived, the noble French gentlemen, bringing 
gifts from the Queen-mother: a chased golden goblet, 
pearls of price, a baby's robe of filmy laces, embroidered 
cushions and coverlets, a tiny cap for baby's head. Sure, 
dainty things to welcome the little life, things to bring 
a tear of tenderness to a woman's eye. Mistress Anne 
Dudley, gentle soul, was shown the presents, and sighed 
and touched the little garments with a soft hand. But 
her Highness, when she was told, flung off into one of 
her wayward moods. She would not see the ambassadors. 
She "would not, and she would not," as she said. Friedrich 
explained ; he spoke of women's whims — " At such a time, 
my lords, I would not gainsay her Highness." 

The courtiers whispered, the men ridiculed and dis- 
approved ; their ladies, jealous of the consideration shown 
to a woman's whim — or sensibility — grumbled that this 
was no German way of treating a wife, and that there must 
be something undutiful, probably unmoral, in a woman 
who could inspire such homage after marriage. " Thou 
dear Heaven ! " they cried, " we were not wont to be used 
thus ! " And they cast angry looks at their autocratic 
lords. 



66 THE WINTER QUEEN 

The ambassadors were aghast at their reception, and 
there was a time of strained relations at Heidelberg. Her 
Highness was served in her own apartments ; she did not 
attend the banquets. Then at the eleventh hour she 
relented — a trifle. She would receive the ambassadors in 
private audience. 

They were ushered up, and were met at the head of the 
stairs by Count Schomberg and her Highness's own gentle- 
men. They passed into the antehall and stood waiting 
before the bright log-fire on the hearth. Then the door 
was flung open, and her Highness's page, young Hans 
von Steinberg, announced that her Highness awaited the 
honour of welcoming France's embassy. The gentlemen 
passed through Mistress Anne's apartment and entered 
the audience chamber. Elizabeth Stuart stood before 
them in sweeping robes of ivory satin, huge fardingale 
and mighty ruff. Her breast was ablaze with jewels, a 
great pearl lay on her brow, a pearl which Elizabeth 
of England had sent to Scotland eighteen years ago 
to her " little gossip " when the said " little gossip " 
was made a member of God's church, and given the 
name of Elizabeth. Her Highness stood very straight, 
one hand resting on the back of a carven chair, the other 
hand playing with the glittering chain of rubies which 
was King James's gift to " Bess, Goody Palsgrave," as his 
Majesty called her. Monsieur de Sainte Catherine, the 
ambassador, bowed deeply ; her Highness responded with 
a profound obeisance. 

" Altesse, it is indeed a joy and honour to be received," 
he began. 

" Mais, Monsieur I'Ambassadeur ! it is no less an honour 
for me to welcome the envoy of her Majesty of France ! 
It has irked me that a slight indisposition has deprived 
me of the pleasure of seeing you ere this." 

" Madame, my royal mistress, sa Majesty trfes v^ner^e, 
has made bold to send you a few small gifts." He waved 
a secretary forward who bore an emblazoned casket. 
" An it please you to view them, madame ? " 

The pearls were shown, and she praised them ; then 



QUIET DAYS 67 

the golden goblet, and then the little garments of filmy 
laces. 

" I charge you, Monsieur I'Ambassadeur, to give my 
humble thanks to her Majesty. I am truly grateful, 
monsieur," she said, and offered him her hand to kiss. He 
bent over it. 

" Madame I'Electrice, her Majesty sends you right good 
wishes, and greetings to the little Palsgrave, who shall be 
a better gift to a mother's heart than pearls and gold," 
he said. 

" In good faith, monsieur, as all the world seems 
determined to think me enceinte, I shall soon believe it 
myself," she answered, and dismissed the astonished 
ambassador with one of her puzzling smiles. 

Five days afterwards the bells of Heidelberg rang out 
peal after peal, and the cannon thundered salutes to the 
new little Prince Palatine. Elizabeth Stuart, lying in the 
great bed of her chamber in the Friedrich's Bau, held in 
her arms a little bundle of laces and ribbons, out of which 
peeped the tiny red face of the new-born. There was 
peace and rest in that sumptuous apartment; the wood 
fire flared and crackled on the hearth, and Mistress Anne 
Dudley hurried about noiselessly, bringing comfortable, 
warm possets for the young mother, adjusting a pillow, 
smoothing a rebellious curl from her Highness's brow. 

Suddenly Elizabeth broke out in laughter. 

" Hush, your Highness, rest ! — be calm ! Quick, her 
Highness's essence flagon ! Quick ! Her Highness has a 
nervous fit ! " cried the attendants. 

" Nay, but — nay, but — I am right well. I think on 
Monsieur de Sainte Catherine, who will have told them in 
France that I was not enceinte. Think, oh Anne ! think 
of him when he hears that this little sweeting came to 
me so soon ! " 



CHAPTEH IV 

THE FIRST MESH IS SPUN 

THE " little sweeting," as Elizabeth called the baby 
Pfalzgraf, was christened with much pomp, and 
received the names of Henry Friedrich — Henry in 
remembrance of her Highness's well - beloved brother, 
whose death had cast so deep a gloom on her first days 
of happiness as the affianced bride of Friedrich of the 
Palatinate. For the baptism a bevy of princes repaired to 
Heidelberg, and again there were magnificent festivities, 
joustings, and banquets. In England the news of the 
birth was received with acclamation, and a bill was 
passed by Parliament conferring the privileges of an 
English subject upon the little Palsgrave, and proclaim- 
ing him to be the rightful heir to the throne of England, 
after his mother. Prince Charles of England was a weak 
and ailing youth, and, even if he lived to be king, none 
expected him to be capable of marriage and fatherhood ; 
thus her Highness Palatine was regarded as the future 
queen of Great Britain. The Puritans in especial 
rejoiced, and welcomed the infant Henry Friedrich as 
heir-presumptive to the throne. The expressions of their 
joy, devotion, and homage were so ostentatious that King 
James, always jealous and suspicious, was reported to be 
in a chronic condition of wrath ; and though he scraped 
a decent sum of money from his ill-furnished treasury as 
a gift to the infant prince, still it was known that he at 
least shared but moderately in the universal satisfaction 
of England. It is notoriously unpleasant to monarchs to 
hear talk on the merits of their successors, and King 
James was not singular in this ; the Emperor Matthias 
was experiencing the same discomfort at this time. While 
the Protestant communities rejoiced at the birth of an heir 

68 



THE FIRST MESH IS SPUN 69 

to their champions, the Catholic world was distraught with 
anxiety as to who should be the future emperor of the 
Holy Eoman Empire, and the leader of the sacred cause. 
It was reckoned that Matthias had few years to live, and all 
deemed it unlikely that he would beget an heir, although 
he had but recently espoused Anne of Styria, daughter of 
the Archduke Ferdinand, regent of Tyrol, who by his 
first marriage had set the world agog by espousing Philip- 
pine Welser, daughter of an Augsburg patrician, no fitting 
mate for an Austrian Archduke, but of romantic fame 
for this same reason. The Emperor Matthias's brothers, 
Maximilian and Albrecht, though they desired to secure 
the imperial crown for the Catholic cause, shunned for 
themselves the mighty task of empire and supported the 
claim of Ferdinand of Styria, the Empress Anne's brother. 
This prince's pretensions were based on his descent from 
the Emperor Maximilian's brother, Philippine Welser's 
Duke Ferdinand of Tyrol. Now Philip III. of Spain 
stepped in and claimed the better right by reason of his 
direct descent from the Emperor Maximilian through his 
daughter. But the claim was repudiated immediately — 
firstly, according to the Salic law which forbade the female 
succession ; and secondly, Queen Anne of Spain had, upon 
her marriage with Philip II., formally renounced her rights 
both for herself and her issue. Here the Protestant elec- 
tors and even their Catholic compeers protested that the 
Hapsburgs possessed no hereditary imperial rights, that 
they were emperors by election and kings of Bohemia 
and Hungary by acceptance. The Bohemians and Hun- 
garians claimed their ancient privilege of election, and con- 
tended that the wording in the patent was "accepted by the 
Bohemians," and that they had notoriously always possessed, 
and practised, the right of freely electing their kings. 

To Philip of Spain's claim Matthias's brother, Archduke 
Maximilian, responded, that though he was willing to re- 
nounce his indisputable rights in favour of Ferdinand of 
Styria, whom he considered a young and strong prince, more 
fitted to govern an empire than such frail greybeards as 
himself andhis brother Albrecht, still he strenuously refused 



70 THE WINTER QUEEN 

to countenance the Spaniard's pretension, based as it was on 
descent in the female line and even thus solemnly renounced 
by the female link in the chain. Philip answered that his 
mother had resigned her rights in favour of her brothers 
and the heirs of their bodies, and that she would never 
have given over her heritage to other claimants. Thus 
he averred that the renunciation was invalid, and his right 
was stronger than that of Ferdinand of Styria. Mean- 
while the Emperor Matthias wavered and procrastinated, 
played with the collection of curios, carven ivories, and 
rare books bequeathed to him by his ill-used brother the 
Emperor Antiquary, Rudolf II. ; dallied with his young 
and handsome, if portly, wife Anne; and though he seemed 
well disposed to the candidature of his brother-in-law, 
Ferdinand of Styria, he refused to settle anything defi- 
nitely concerning the succession. The favourite, Bishop 
Klesl, tenacious of his power, and perfectly aware that it 
would wane when the succession question was decided and 
the intrigues of Europe were directed towards the newly 
risen sun of an acknowledged future emperor, encouraged 
Matthias in his inertia. This was the situation in the 
winter of 1613-14. Now there sprang up another party 
which pointed at Friedrich of the Palatinate as a possible 
future emperor, a Protestant monarch backed by such 
great powers as an English father-in-law, a Danish uncle, 
King Christian, and a Dutch uncle, Prince Maurice of 
Orange. Who could doubt that such champions of Pro- 
testantism would risk all to secure an imperial crown to 
their close kinsman, who would form an unassailable 
Protestant empire ? 

All these conjectures and intrigues were confounded 
early in 1615 by the news that the Empress Anne was 
enceinte, and that Matthias therefore refused to sanction 
further negotiations concerning the succession. He an- 
nounced proudly that his heir would be king of Bohemia 
and Hungary, and that after his own death the empire 
would be governed by a regent until such time as the 
Hapsburg scion should be grown to man's estate and 
fitted to rule as emperor. Even the most sanguine of 



THE FIRST MESH IS SPUN 71 

the Catholic princes were appalled at the prospect of a 
regency, but Matthias enquired angrily why his dear kins- 
men and adherents persisted in allotting him so short a 
span of life ; he was in excellent health, and the happi- 
ness of knowing he would soon be a father had encouraged 
him to hope for long years of earthly joy. 

At Heidelberg the news was received with mingled feel- 
ings : Prince Friedrich, who had attained his majority in 
the August of 1614, saw a future menace to Protestant- 
ism in the unborn Hapsburg infant ; Scultetus likewise in 
Biblical phrases proclaimed the Empress's condition to be 
the accursed flourishing of the evil tree of the ungodly ; 
Elizabeth Stuart, too occupied with her domestic life to 
care overmuch for political complications, averred that she 
rejoiced for the portly Empress. The Electress Juliane, 
sojourning for a few days at Heidelberg, was happy to hear 
of the circumstance, for she had feared and mistrusted the 
ambition which she had believed to be growing in her son's 
heart ; she had trembled at the thought of Friedrich be- 
coming involved in the vortex of intrigue which surrounded 
the throne of Bohemia and the succession to the imperial 
purple. 

" Believe me, madame ma fiUe," she said to Elizabeth, 
" you have peace and content here in Heidelberg. Ambi- 
tion is a hard and cruel task-mistress, whose unrelenting 
grasp crushes joy from the human heart. I have ever 
thought that ambition is one of the fallen angels, who 
has been noble zeal in Paradise, and is an evil spirit of 
unrest on earth, cursed by God." 

" Faint heart ! ma mere," returned Elizabeth, " who 
would not be an emperor an he had the courage ? " 

" Say not so, sweet child, you have content — do not 
grasp at other things," the old Electress said gravely. 

" Ma foi, madame, if I could found an empire for my 
son I would e'en risk my life ! " her Highness answered, 
laughing. 

But Elizabeth was greatly occupied at home, and 
gave scant thought to other matters. Prince Friedrich 
had returned with broken health from the assembly 



72 THE WINTER QUEEN 

of Princes of the Union at Heilbronn. Elizabeth had 
seen him ride forth in the pride of his youth and strength, 
and three weeks afterwards he had returned with paUid 
cheeks and languid gait, and had told her that he had 
been sick unto death at Heilbronn. To her sharp ques- 
tion as to why she had been left in ignorance of his 
danger, he had replied that he would not have her 
troubled. She had been both bitterly angered at his 
silence and deeply touched at his loving consideration of 
her, but, womanlike, she had shown her anger most, and 
Friedrich, already depressed by the ravages of fever, had 
fallen into a profound melancholy. 

Count Schomberg's patient wooing of Mistress Anne 
Dudley had been rewarded, and after a lengthy corre- 
spondence with King James the marriage had taken 
place at Heidelberg. The British Solomon had opposed 
the match stubbornly, and had worked upon Anne's 
father, Sutton, Lord Dudley, to withhold his consent. 
There was no matter too trivial for his Majesty's inter- 
ference, and having taken a misliking to Schomberg he 
worked against the marriage as though it had been an 
affair of State importance. He even complained that 
Schomberg and Mistress Anne had been careless in their 
service to her Highness, and adduced as proof thereof 
that Elizabeth's jewels were not properly taken care of. 
Where, for instance, was this pearl, that emerald ring, 
this jewelled neckchain, that pendant of sapphires ? And 
where was that beautiful set of ruby buttons which 
Queen Anne had " heedlessly bestowed " on her High- 
ness ? Poor Mistress Anne could account for all the 
jewels save these said ruby buttons, but his Majesty 
grew lachrymose, and averred that he had given them to 
his beloved spouse years ago in happy Scotland, and that 
these love tokens must be forthcoming. Then Elizabeth 
remembered that she had presented these buttons to a 
Mistress Tyrell, one of her tiring-women who had not 
accompanied her into Germany, and Mistress Tyrell was 
arraigned before King James. Yes, the buttons were 
safe enough, but her Highness had given them over to 



THE FIRST MESH IS SPUN 73 

the tiring- woman in payment of a debt of three hundred 
pounds sterling which she had lent her Highness to 
defray a little card account owed by the Princess of 
scarce seventeen summers. So the buttons were re- 
deemed and paid for by Elizabeth ; we may be sure that 
King James kept the strings of his purse well knotted. 
This fracas over and peace restored, Schomberg and 
Mistress Anne Dudley were happily married early in the 
year 1615. 

De Cans had commenced his work in the Heidelberg 
gardens, and veritable mountains of soil were being moved 
from the rough hill-land behind the castle to raise the 
level for terraces and flowering parterres. The work 
went on apace, yet Elizabeth was impatient. 

" Altesse ! " cried De Caus, " the good God himself 
laboured six days to make the earth ! Can I make a 
paradise in six months ? " 

" Her Highness dreams of magic palaces and wondrous 
plaisances which spring up in a night," said Friedrich, 
laughing. 

" Well, my lord," retorted her Highness, " some lovers 
have accomplished the impossible to honour their 
beloved ! I charge you offer me such a homage ! " 
She laughed and turned away, walking slowly between 
the rose trees of her rosery with Mistress Anne Dudley. 
It was June, and the fragrance of the flowers was full in 
the air, Friedrich stood watching her Highness as she 
moved away. A shadow was in his eyes. " Ofler me such 
a homage," he repeated musingly, " God knows, I would 
give her the world itself an I could ! " 

" Monseigneur," said De Caus, " let us devise some jest 
to please her Highness. Shall we build her a bower in 
a single night ? " Friedrich turned to him eagerly. 

" Could it be done, monsieur ? But remember, sir, it 
must be a bower that will stand for ever. I will have no 
paltry thing that would crumble before the first storm," 
he said. 

" Ah ! monseigneur, shall it not be a symbol of love — 
beautiful, fragile ? " cried the Frenchman. 



74 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" My love shall last for ever, sir ; let us build the 
arbour of stone," returned Friedrich gravely. 

" Alack ! these Germans ! " grumbled De Caus to him- 
self as the Prince walked away, " heavy dullards ! with 
their talk of ' for ever.' Bah ! we say such things to 
women — but these barbarians mean them ! Well, why 
not ? Let us devise some solid homage in stone to be a 
symbol of our German prince's love." He shrugged his 
narrow shoulders, and taking a little book from his pocket 
began to draw rapidly. 

A few days afterwards he came to Friedrich, " Mon- 
seigneur," he cried, " I have prepared the magic homage 
for her Highness ! " and he presented the prince with a 
drawing of a carven archway. " The stone is wrought, 
and in a single night the gateway can be set up ! But 
we must play a little comedy to her Highness to-morrow 
that she may think our magic is potent." 

On the morrow Elizabeth, Mistress Anne Dudley (Coun- 
tess Schomberg she was now), Amalia Solms, and little 
Hans Steinberg, the page, were together in her Highness's 
favourite turret, where, two years before, she had so often 
spent long hours with my lord and my lady of Harring- 
ton. Before her Highness was her embroidery frame, 
and Prince Christel sat near her with an open book on 
his knee. He was reading aloud : 

" But she scorned him, and when he prayed her bestow 
on him a rose she had gathered, she mocked him, flung 
him a golden thread from her broidery, and told him to 
make a lute-string thereof an he could, for it was his 
calling to tweak a minstrel's lyre but not to woo damsels 
of high degree. Then did Lowfried the lover cut deeply 
into his breast, and laid the golden thread close to his 
heart, and vowed he would go out into the world and win 
advancement by reason of splendid deeds. And so he did, 
and returned to the castle proudly, having been knighted 
by the king's own sword. And he made a song telling 
of his prowess and his undying love, and this he sang to 
the Lady Angliona, but she answered that he must prove 
his faithful love to her. Then he told her that the 



THE FIRST MESH IS SPUN 75 

golden thread still lay upon his heart, but she cried out 
that he must show it to her. Then he said that it was 
deep embedded in his flesh ; but she doubted him. So 
he drew his sword, and cutting open the old wound he 
drew forth the golden thread. And lo ! it was shining 
and untarnished as on the day she had flung it to him 
in scorn. And the Lady Angiiona was conquered by 
his love, and laid her hands upon his shoulders, and 
stooping, kissed his heart. And Lowfried the lover praised 
God, and gave thanks that, by the glory of true love, 
of ardent service, and patient sufl"ering, so fair a guerdon 
had fallen to his lot as this gift of the Lady Angliona's 
love." 

Friedrich and De Cans, warned by a gesture of her 
Highness's hand, had paused to listen. When the tale 
ended, silence fell on the hearers, for Christel's voice and 
the quaint wording of the ancient German legend seemed 
a melodious poem of the olden time. After a moment 
Friedrich plucked a yellow silken skein from her High- 
ness's embroidery frame, and laughing held it out to 
Christel. 

" See, cousin," he said, " there are still golden threads 
in the world even an there be no heroic knights." Christel 
snatched the skein from him and hid it in his doublet. 

" When you reclaim it, madame, you will find it on my 
heart ! " he cried merrily. 

" Silly children," Elizabeth said, laughing. " But what 
would you, my lord ? Methinks you and Monsieur De 
Caus came to me on some urgent embassy, to judge by 
your serious looks." 

" Altesse," said De Caus, " enchanters have been at work 
in your garden during the night." 

" How now ? Enchanters — what has occurred ? " she 
cried, and rose hastily. Prince Friedrich took her hand 
and led her away in mock solemnity. They passed 
through the courtyard and over the inner drawbridge, 
avoiding the wilderness of boards, plankings, mortar- 
heaps, and scaffolding with which the builders at work on 
the new wing of the castle had encumbered the ground. 



76 THE WINTER QUEEN 

Up the road beneath the beech trees his Highness led the 
Lady Ehzabeth, then turned into the gardens near the 
Hungerthurm. He led her towards two towering poles 
which supported a damask curtain. 

" What pleasantry is this, my lord ? A masque — a 
new play-acting ? " cried her Highness. 

He gave her a gilded cord. " Draw aside the curtain, 
madame ma mie," he whispered, "and you shall see a 
magicking ! " 

Elizabeth impetuously wrenched at the cord; the 
curtain flew apart and revealed a beautiful archway of 
carven stone. 

" Magic indeed ! " she cried ; " only yestere'en I passed 
this way and there was no building begun here ! " 

" Madame ma femme," said Friedrich, " you bid me offer 
you a homage, so I builded this in a single night. Jason 
buried the dragon's teeth in the earth, and an army sprang 
to his bidding ! I sow my commands in the soil, and a 
fair structure of stone straightway arises to symbolise the 
enduring love of my heart for you." 

" I thank you, beloved," said Elizabeth, and tears stood 
in her eyes, " I thank you for this homage, which will 
tell of your love for me long after we have passed from 
men's thoughts." 

Strange that her Highness spoke thus, for this gatcAvay 
is the only building of all those Friedrich raised which 
has defied warfare and time, and stands unharmed amid 
the ruins of Heidelberg ; and we may still read the half 
erased inscription : — 

"Fkedericus V, Elizabethae conjugi cariss. 

A.D. M.D.C.XV. F.C." 

Thus the days passed in peace. In August came the 
news that the Empress Anne had been disappointed in 
her hopes; nay, that these hopes had been delusion. 
Many people laughed, some rejoiced, and notably the 
Archduke Maximilian, who had expressed his anxiety at 
the prospect of a regency in such violent terms that even 
the amiable Emperor Matthias had been offended, now 



THE FIRST MESH IS SPUN 77 

rejoiced so openly at the Empress's disappointment that 
the Emperor's anger was thoroughly aroused. And the 
poor, stout Empress Anne ? Who gave a thought to the 
barren woman's sadness ? Of a truth, it is a ruthless 
game this of intrigue and kingcraft ! 

The long summer days closed in, and once more 
autumn came to Heidelberg. The Lady Elizabeth and 
Mistress Anne spoke of things dear to woman's heart, and 
the embroidery frames were laid aside for delicate fabrics 
and filmy laces. It was : " Sweet Anne, what will you 
name the little one ? Ah ! how good 'twill be to see you 
with a tiny sweeting of your own. If 'tis a maiden she 
must be the little love of my boy's heart, and if God gives 
you a man-child he will be my naughty romp's trusty 
friend." And thus they talked and dreamed while they 
sewed little garments for the newcomer's adorning. 

Then came an autumn day when all was anxiety and 
yet hope. For long hours the mother agonised — in vain. 
Alas ! the feeble cry of greeting to the world was never 
heard, and sweet Mistress Anne lay with empty arms and 
yearning heart. Elizabeth Stuart left her neither night 
nor day, and gave the comfort of her loving care to the 
forlorn one. ' ' Courage, Anne ! courage ! You will bear 
other children, you will tell other little ones of their brother 
whom God loved too well to leave to us," she said. But 
Mistress Anne shook her head; and one morning as the sun 
rose in harsh splendour over the frost-glittering gardens, her 
gentle soul followed her dead child into the eternal silence. 

Deep sadness lay on Elizabeth Stuart, and she fell sick 
from grief. As if in mercy God sent the stern-browed 
angel Anxiety to fight the demon of despair in Schom- 
berg's heart. He had been drawn very close to her 
Highness in those hours near Mistress Anne's bedside, and 
while Elizabeth lay stricken to sickness by grief, it as- 
suaged his sorrow to watch over all and keep order in the 
household for her Highness's sake. Yet he was so bowed 
with sorrow, so broken, that men wondered and women 
loved him reverently for the tribute of agony which he 
paid to her he loved. 



78 THE WINTER QUEEN 

Elizabeth rose from her bed of sickness white and wan, 
and Friedrich wrote urgently to England to pray my lady 
of Harrington to come at once. She arrived at Heidelberg 
shortly before Christmas, and her comfortable good sense 
seemed the only medicine which could heal Elizabeth's pain. 

" See, dear child," said my lady, " I would not have you 
forget to mourn. Were you not sad I could not love you ; 
but there is no beauty in unending woe. It is one of the 
absurdities which men have fashioned, this, that the strong 
soul when stricken must wail for ever. See here, it is 
with the heart as with the body — the wounded flesh heals 
in time — never the same again, for there must be a scar 
where a deep wound has been ; but we do not say : ' How 
beautiful a body it is which festers and will not heal ! ' 
Rather we say : ' Alack ! unclean blood.' And with the 
soul it is even so ; the strong and healthy mind heals and 
is not conquered by pain. ' Never the same again,' you 
say, madame ? Nay, but we are never the same one 
hour to the next, for have we not lived through that hour 
and endured the carving hand of time ? " 

Often she spoke thus to Elizabeth, and she forgot not 
to let her weep out her grief. 

Yet perchance Amalia Solms unwittingly helped her 
Highness even more than my lady of Harrington, for she 
applied the stinging acid of the pity of a narrow nature. 
She spoke of Mistress Anne as "cette pauvre morte," and 
she seemed to Elizabeth to belittle her memory by allusions 
to her as a poor dead thing. Then, too, her assumption 
that she could take Anne's place in Elizabeth's life stung 
her Highness to anger, and wrath is sometimes a good 
fresh breeze over a brooding soul. 

" La lourde will drive me to a frenzy, dear Harrington," 
she exclaimed one day when the Solms had taken upon 
herself to command one of the tiring- women to put straight 
her Highness's jewels. " She thinks to play my Anne's 
part, alack ! " 

" She is a good soul, madame," said my lady placidly. 

" Good — good ! I am weary of her goodness ! She is 
good because there is nothing bad in her, that is her only 



THE FIRST MESH IS SPUN 79 

merit," Elizabeth, said sharply, and then a smile crept over 
her lips and she laughed at her own ill-humour. Thus 
through the gate which annoyance had cleft in the dark- 
ness of her soul her sense of humour broke through, and 
my lady of Harrington knew that her Highness's sadness 
was lighter. 

The current of life at Heidelberg flowed on peacefully 
once more. Prince Friedrich was often called away by 
political affairs, and when he sojourned at Heidelberg there 
was much talk of State matters, and members of both the 
contending parties often tarried at the castle to discuss 
grave questions. Friedrich played his part with ardour, 
and if he won the hearts of the Protestant princes, he also 
endeavoured to propitiate the Catholics by his moderate 
tone in religious matters. But he did so against the will of 
Scultetus, whose relentless bigotry knew no half measures. 
Another sombre influence was Duke Christian of Anhalt, 
Ritter Christel's father. Duke Christian was a strong, 
harsh old man of giant stature, beneath whose shaggy over- 
hanging brows the pale blue eyes glared fiercely. It was 
said that his religion was that of a fanatic, but those who 
knew him nearer whispered that faith and integrity were 
burnt out of his heart by an almost insane passion of 
hatred of the House of Hapsburg. 

Such were the two advisers who moulded the maniable 
clay of Friedrich's weak nature, and if at first he acted 
with moderation, and won golden opinions from friends 
and antagonists, the poison seed of intolerance but grew 
the stronger in his being. A visit to Munich which, as 
her Highness was with child, he undertook alone, did not 
mend matters. His cousin, Duke Maximilian of Bavaria, 
spoke with him gravely and warned him to avoid those 
persons who urged ambition upon him. " To keep what he 
has got should be the statesman's first care, mon cousin," 
the wily Bavarian told him. " Remember the story of the 
dog who, having a bone in his mouth, opened his teeth to 
snatch a joint of mutton, and so lost his bone and missed 
the meat as well." 

" But you forget that in these days it is no question of 



80 THE WINTER QUEEN 

personal ambition, your Highness," cried Friedricli hotly, 
" there is religion to be guarded and helped ; though our 
faith is not the same, you can understand that." 

" Beware of ambition dressed in a preacher's gown, 
Palsgrave," replied Maximilian, with the astute eyes and 
the grave, false smile. Then Friedrich, young and ardent, 
disclosed his own honest plan. He saw the peace and 
plenty in Bavaria, the lenient rule, the excellent order, 
and he proposed that Maximilian should become king of 
Bohemia at Matthias' death. Obviously the Catholic 
princes would consent, and Friedrich promised the support 
of the Princes of the Protestant Union, upon the sole 
condition of religious freedom to all Protestants, both 
Calvinist and Lutheran, in Bohemia. But Maximilian 
would hear nothing of it ; he spoke of his faithful love of 
the House of Hapsburg, and of his admiration for Ferdinand 
of Styria, the acknowledged candidate for Bohemia and the 
empire. He smiled to himself grimly; why should he 
jeopardise his Bavaria for a tottering throne in an unruly 
country like Bohemia ? No, he would like to be the first 
Elector and to annex several portions of the Rhenish 
Palatinate, but this he did not mention. 

His Highness Friedrich's visit was not soothing to his 
vanity, for he felt that Maximilian treated him like some 
eager, imprudent boy, and, offended in his young pride, 
his mind veered the more to Duke Christian of Anhalt 
and Scultetus, who fostered in him the idea of his im- 
portance as leader of the Union, and the representative 
of German Protestantism. It were too much to say that 
Friedrich left Munich in pique, but he was strong in his 
desire to hasten back to Heidelberg, and love lent him 
wings, for he longed to be with the Lady Elizabeth, and 
dreaded lest she should be confined in his absence. And 
he rode home so wildly through the snow drifts that he 
reached Heidelberg in a day and a night, and his Lord 
Chamberlain, Count Solms, with the rest of the suite, 
arrived long after the impetuous prince, 

" His Highness the Palsgrave is too ardent a lover to be 
a statesman," said Duke Maximilian of Bavaria grimly, 
when he heard of his kinsman's exploit. 



CHAPTER y 

WAENING 

IN December 1617 Elizabeth's second son Charles 
Louis was born, and all Heidelberg was astounded 
to see Imperial ambassadors arrive from Prague to 
honour the champions of Protestantism, and congratulate 
their Highnesses upon the infant's birth. King James of 
England, hearing of this, was mighty proud, and averred 
that the Catholic world, knowing its own weakness, was 
wooing the favour of the powerful Protestant ruler, 
Friedrich of the Palatinate. Now her Highness Eliza- 
beth, weary of the peaceful monotony of Heidelberg, was 
all too ready to respond to the overtures of the Imperial 
Court, and sent warm and friendly messages to her 
Majesty the Empress. The portly lady proclaimed her- 
self highly gratified, and roused herself sufficiently from 
her lethargic ease to pen a letter to Elizabeth. She 
wrote that she greatly desired the honour of greeting 
her Highness ; it would be a joy to her to welcome 
Madame I'jfilectrice at Prague. 

" Let us make a pilgrimage thither, my lord," cried her 
Highness gaily ; " alack ! how slow you are, sweet sir, to 
grasp the merriment of life ! I weary for a journey. Come, 
let us to Prague ; I vow 'twill be hugely diverting ! " But 
Friedrich would not consent ; he urged the perils of travel 
through so disquiet a country as Bohemia ; and he feared 
some disturbances among the Protestants, who might seize 
the occasion of his visit to the Emperor to rise in revolt. 

" Oh ! beloved, these constant restrictions make me 
rage ! " she retorted. " First I would go into England, 
then it is precedence which balks me. You cannot let 
my brother sit higher than you at the banquets, and my 
brother cannot give his place to you ! Then we write 

81 J, 



82 THE WINTER QUEEN 

documents and my father indites whole tomes — and we 
pay half a hundred ambassadors to settle the matter— but 
the end is : her Highness does not go into England in 
this year of grace ! " Elizabeth mimicked the portentous 
mouthing of King James. 

" But, mon cher et unique coeur," cried Friedrich, " what 
would you ? Now that you are restored to health there 
shall be huntings and dancings here. The Frankfurt fair 
in spring will provide you with many rich garments, and 
you will be diverted and occupied in their choosing. Are 
you so weary of me, sweet Bess ? " 

" Alack ! dear heart, why should I be weary of you 
because I crave a journey ? You have your State matters 
to amuse you, why should I not have some interest in 
worldly things too ? " she asked. 

" It is a woman's lot, madame " he began. 

■' Tut ! a woman's lot ! I warrant other women yearn 
for merriment and change as I do ! " she cried. " There, 
sir, I see you are taking the husband's tone with me ! I 
liked the lover's accents better." 

" I am your lover, dearling, always — but I cannot take 
you to Prague," he answered. 

"You are like the farmer in the old story, monseig- 
neur ! " she retorted. " He said he would like to drive 
his good wife to the fair, but unfortunately he and his 
horse were going the other way, so they went to a beer 
tavern instead." 

But her Highness got her way in the end, and it was 
decided that the visit to Prague should take place in the 
spring. There were many preparations afoot in her 
Highness's tiring-room; white and coloured linen ruffs, 
lace rebatoes of half-a-dozen different shapes and sizes, 
new-fashioned fardingales, gorgeous brocaded overskirts, 
bodices long in the French mode, bodices short with the 
loose Dutch waist, shoe roses, embroidered gloves, riding 
gauntlets, and velvet gowns for the hunt, tall felt hats 
with drooping feathers, small velvet caps with upstand- 
ing plumes, fans and ribbons and rosettes, fabrics of all 
kinds, silks, taffetas, satins and velvets were strewn in her 



WARNING 83 

Highness's tiring-room. Anxious merchants journeyed 
from Frankfurt, where the word had been given that her 
Highness Palatine's wardrobe was to be replenished. 

Then one day in early spring, when Elizabeth returned 
from riding, she found the Prince awaiting her at the door 
of the Friedrich's Bau with grave and anxious mien and 
with a mud-bespattered gentleman standing beside him. 

" Captain Bell craves the honour of being presented to 
your Highness," Prince Friedrich said, " he rides on urgent 
business. He will tell you all when you receive him." 

" I am ready to speak with you, sir, if you will follow me 
upstairs to my audience chamber," Elizabeth said graci- 
ously. They passed up the winding stairway, through the 
marbled corridor, and into the tapestry-hung audience hall. 

" Now, sir ! " cried her Highness impetuously, " what is 
this business which hath brought a cloud of anxiety to 
my husband's brow ? " 

" Madame, it is indeed a grave matter I have to relate. 
Your Highness intends to visit Prague next month, 
and " 

" Most certainly, sir, I travel to Prague in May — it is 
decided," she said coldly, and shot a glance of angry 
suspicion at Prince Friedrich, whose reluctancy she still 
resented. 

" Your Highness goes at the risk of her life then," said 
Bell, " there is a plot, madame, of which I have proof." 

" I go as the guest of her Majesty the Empress and 
under her protection. I shall be safe," returned Elizabeth 
haughtily. 

" Madame, I implore you to listen to me. The Em- 
press, of course, knows nothing of this hideous plot' " 

" Captain Bell, we are living in the year of grace six- 
teen hundred and seventeen, we are no longer in the dark 
ages when murder was an ordinary matter. These are 
fond tales, sir, I will not hearken," she said. Bell drew 
a bundle of papers from his tunic. 

" Read, madame," he answered. She took the papers 
and spread them on a table. 

" Some are in cypher, sir, I cannot read them. Ah ' 



84 THE WINTER QUEEN 

here is one in German and another in Italian. ' Touch- 
ing the sleeping potion for an illustrious lady, I have 
a delicious medicine which gives long sleep,' " she read 
aloud, " ' sweet to the taste but very faint, not notice- 
able if mixed with wine, recommended to be used with 
good potent Malvoisie.' Tut, sir, this is some apothe- 
cary's formula, some doctor suing for patronage and 
setting forth the excellence of a soothing draught," she 
said impatiently, 

" If your Highness will read the signature the sinister 
import is but too clear," the Englishman said. She turned 
the document around. 

" Theophania — Theophania ? I know not the name," 
she said in a musing tone. 

"Yet it is a name known throughout Europe, madame. 
Theophania is the drug-wife of Naples, and her name 
has been mentioned in every poison trial of the last ten 
years," he answered. " She ranks higher in her horrible 
craft than Mrs. Turner of London," he added. Elizabeth 
started. 

" She has paid for her crimes, sir ; I will not hear 
mention of her," she said quickly. 

" Madame, I crave forgiveness for my plain speaking. 
Theophania has boasted that, an she had had the poison- 
ing of Sir Thomas Overbury, none could have traced her 
drugs. Her victims die swiftly, and by a gentle ceasing 
of the life's pulses ; there is no struggle, no pain, and no 
trace in or on the body." He spoke quietly. 

" How got you this knowledge, sir ? How came you 
by these papers ? " she asked. 

" Your Highness, I am a soldier of fortune. Till re- 
cently I served with the imperial troops against the 
Turks. Lately I have been in Vienna, lodged in the 
house of a priest. One night when he thought me at a 
tavern, I had come home early. My bedchamber was 
near his parlour, I heard voices, and as I lay a-bed I heard 
the mention of your name. I listened, and I heard that 
as you are a danger to the Catholics, you are to be put 
away secretly. I heard the stranger's voice say that he 



WARNING 85 

was the agent of the Archduke Maximilian. All know 
how that prince inclines to the use of poison; did he 
not propose to Ferdinand of Styria to remove Bishop 
Klesl, when the favourite stood in their way in the suc- 
cession question ? Your Highness will remember that 
the plan leaked out, and made much talk three years 
ago ? Well, madame, there was mention of poison both 
for your Highness and for your son ; the Elector Pala- 
tine would seem to commit suicide from grief — but that 
plan was only slightly worked out ; I heard no more, for 
they spoke low. The next morning my friend the priest 
was busied in the copying of various documents. I pro- 
posed to him to drink a cup of sack with me. He said 
he had no time to go abroad, and went on writing. I 
hurried to the tavern, bought two bottles of sack ; then 
I went to a friendly apothecary, told him that I was near 
mad with sleeplessness, and he gave me a drug the half of 
which he vowed would throw me into a slumber for long 
hours. I put the whole contents of the phial into one 
of the bottles of sack and went home. The priest was 
still writing. I told him I would give him a feast, and 
pressed him to go to the tavern with me ; then when he 
refused, as I had judged he would, I pretended to re- 
member I had two flasks of sack packed away. I fetched 
them. We began to drink the undrugged wine. By a 
seeming false movement, I upset both his glass and the 
flask. We made merry, and I opened the drugged flask 
and poured it into his glass ; he drank, while I sipped 
my wine, which had come from the other bottle. Fin- 
ally, madame, the priest fell into a heavy slumber, and I 
was at liberty to examine the papers on his table. I 
copied them, one and all, and these are they." He 
pointed at the documents which her Highness held in 
her hand. " Two days I tarried in Vienna, leading the 
usual lazy life of the unemployed soldier, then I gave 
out I must ride to Prague to seek better work. I took 
a hearty farewell of the priest, who suspected nothing, 
rode off towards Prague, then turned westward, and I 
am here at your Highness's service." 



86 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" I thank you, sir," slie answered, " but I must ask you 
why you have thus risked yourself to save me ? " 

" Madame, I have told you I am a soldier of fortune." 
He shrugged his shoulders. "I was out of work and 
getting no pay from the Emperor. One service is as 
good as another to me, and it would have been an ugly 
thought to me that a woman had been poisoned and that 
I could have warned her and had not done so." 

" Your frankness pleases me, sir," Elizabeth said with 
a smile, " but I cannot credit your story for all that." 

" Your Highness, I am a rough man who earns his 
bread by warfare. When I came hither I had under- 
taken to warn you in the hope of payment for my 
trouble. I will take no pay from you now, as you will not 
credit my good faith. I have warned you, and I crave 
permission to go on my way." He bowed awkwardly, and 
turned towards the door. Prince Friedrich, who had 
stood silent during this colloquy, laid a hand on his 
shoulder. 

" Stay, sir," he said, " I will drive a bargain with her 
Highness. Madame, will you at least trust Captain Bell 
to carry these papers into England ? Let him tell his tale 
to his Majesty, and bring us his advice in answer." 

" Why this, dear my lord ? " she cried impatiently. 
"I journey to Prague in a few weeks' time; when this 
gentleman returns out of England he will find me visiting 
her Majesty the Empress." 

" Then, sir, I commission you to ride in all haste into 
England. Pray God you will return here in time to 
hinder our journey to Prague if his Majesty's wisdom 
deems it safer for us to stay at home," said Friedrich. 
" Madame, will you consent to this, and give me your 
promise to obey King James if he counsels abandonment 
of the visit ? " 

' Why should my father know more of this than 
we ? " she asked. 

" Will you give me your promise, madame ? " Friedrich 
repeated anxiously. 

" Yes, an my father can adduce good reasons for not 



WARNING 87 

going to Prague, I will obey Then hasten, Captain 
Bell, you have three weeks to ride to England and 
back ; longer I will not tarry," she said, laughing. 

" Why this mad plan, beloved ? " she said when Bell 
had left ; " why should my father be gifted with such 
penetration as to be especially able to judge of the truth 
of this absurd tale ? " 

" Bell is an Englishman, dear heart. If his story is a 
mere pretext for gaining gold, he will not ride to England, 
and we shall never hear more of him," said Friedrich. 

" Yes, that is wise ; meanwhile, dear love, you err an 
you think I shall cease my preparations for our journey," 
she said gaily. 

The days passed quickly, and her Highness's wardrobe 
waxed, also Elizabeth's impatience to start on her journey 
to Prague. If she gave Bell and his grim warning a 
thought, it was as to some past slight annoyance. She 
did not expect to see the adventurer return to Heidel- 
berg, He had been given a purse of gold and a remount 
for his trouble, as Prince Friedrich had believed the man 
to have been in earnest. " Although he might be a 
dupe, he was no rascal," his Highness had remarked. 

The visit was fixed for the middle of May, but towards 
the end of April a letter from her Majesty the Empress 
was brought to Heidelberg. It informed their High- 
nesses Palatine that the Emperor purposed summoning 
the Diet of the Empire to Ratisbon towards the 20th of 
May, and therefore her Majesty must renounce the honour 
of receiving their Highnesses in Prague for the nonce, but 
she prayed Elizabeth and her eldest son to accompany 
the Elector to Ratisbon. The Empress added that the 
journey thither from Heidelberg would prove less arduous 
than the long road to Prague, and that the unsettled state 
of Bohemia rendered travelling both unsafe and un- 
pleasant. 

" And this friendly, anxious lady is the cruel monster 
who would poison me an she could ! " cried Elizabeth as 
she handed the missive to his Highness. " It is now a 
full month since Captain Bell rode to England. Methinks 



88 THE WINTER QUEEN 

we shall ne'er set eyes on him again. So I shall see 
Ratisbon and the Imperial Court at last ! " 

As the appointed time for their Highnesses' departure 
drew near, Elizabeth was in a fever of excitement ; she 
loved change, and it was given to her to enjoy peace and 
content, but withal to endure a certain monotony at 
Heidelberg. The departure was fixed for a Tuesday, 
and on the preceding Monday her Highness had ordered 
a grand ball to be held in the Hall of Mirrors. From 
the neighbouring castles the lords and ladies were bidden 
to the feast, and on the morning the town of Heidelberg 
was filled with constantly arriving companies of horse- 
men, and sometimes a heavy, swaying, springless vehicle, 
gilded and carven, awakened the curiosity of the towns- 
folk, for such carriages were rare enough in those days 
and only the nobles owned them. In fact the purchase 
of a carosse was deemed a weighty matter, especially 
as, for the most part, these lumbering monsters were 
built in far-off Ghent by the famous master-builders of 
Flanders. When a carosse was delivered to the pur- 
chaser the master-builder travelled all the way with his 
masterpiece, and gave it over with much formality. 
There were a-many carriages, fully a hundred and fifty, 
in the rich and peaceful Palatinate, not counting, of 
course, her Highness Palatine's own carosses. 

The ladies who travelled in these coaches were shaken 
and jolted cruelly, and even the shortest journey was an 
adventurous undertaking, for the roads were so rough 
that it constantly happened that a wheel would stick in 
the heav}'^ mud or become wedged in some deep rut, and 
then my lady and her family would be obliged to descend 
and stand waiting by the roadside while my lord and his 
attendants laboured to set up the toppling, ungainly, 
carven and gilded vehicle ; yet it was so grand a thing to 
own a coach, it was so splendid to arrive at a town in such 
opulence, that my lady preferred any discomfort, and pro- 
fessed herself astounded at her mother's and grandmother's 
misfortune in having been obliged to travel a-horseback or 
strapped into a pillion behind some stout serving-man. 



WARNING 89 

"The Goldene Hirsch," the beautiful renaissance hos- 
telry, was full of guests, for it was not every noble family 
which possessed a palace in Heidelberg, though there were 
many tall gabled houses in the narrow streets which were 
known by high-sounding names, such as : the Hirschorn 
Palace, the House Ingelheim, Ritter von Diebsberg's Man- 
sion, and the rest. It was a gay scene, and as a sign of 
the changed times the old men noticed that there were no 
broils ending in bloodshed, and that though the serving- 
men jostled and quarrelled, their lords were affable and 
friendly to each other. Yes, it was a time of peace and 
prosperity ; war and feud had vanished for ever, it seemed, 
from the quiet Rhineland. " Pray God we may never see 
the old dark days return," they said. Yet they looked 
back to the vanished turbulent times with regret, these 
old men ; " it was a merry life withal," they said. But, in 
truth, it was for their own youth that they yearned, youth 
which made life so splendidly poignant both in joy and 
pain, youth shining in the mirror of remembrance, and 
time had blurred the mirror so that all they saw were the 
good old days — however bad they were — the good old 
days when they were young. 

Towards four of the clock a number of guests made 
their way up the narrow stone-paved road to the castle. 
Several coaches lumbered slowly up, the horses straining 
at the traces and almost slipping backwards on the steep 
incline. 

First there was a banquet in the newly finished hall 
of the Englische Bau, a vast room hung with tapestries 
depicting hunting scenes, and lit by hundreds of candles 
whose light fell discreetly on the silks and satins of the 
women's gowns, and lit the splendour of their flashiDg 
jewels. Her Highness Elizabeth was right merry and 
gracious, and her white satin gown of the newest mode 
was the object of much attention on the part of the lady 
guests. Prince Friedrich, too, was richly attired in ivory- 
coloured satin, with hugely puffed breeches and silken hose, 
long flat-toed shoes with jewelled roses, a doublet slashed 
with silver, and a stiff square ruff of fine linen edged with 



90 THE WINTER QUEEN 

lace. Prince Christel was splendid in an azure doublet, 
and even his father, fierce old Anhalt, had donned a gar- 
ment of purple velvet slashed and puffed in the latest 
design, although he had strenuously refused to alter his 
short cut of hair to suit the present mode of falling love- 
locks. " I have kept my head trimmed all my days, and 
to affect a jackanapes mode, sir, and go with my hair 
falling on to my ruff — no, sir, by my redemption ! no, 
sir ! " he had bawled at the simpering barber. 

The banquet lasted long, for in 1617 a feast meant solid 
eating and drinking. The dishes were over a hundred and 
sixty in number, not counting the sweetmeats ; for it had 
been considered shame to a kitchen-master had he omitted 
the serving of any beast, bird, or fish to be procured in the 
countryside. There were wild boars' heads, pigs roasted 
whole, barons of beef, entire sheep, whole deer, hares and 
wild birds, capons and geese, swans and peacocks, eels, and 
perch, and salmon, and trout, and two different sorts of 
soups, and pasties and tarts, and sweetmeats for the 
womenkind. Each guest had a spoon and knife, and a 
goblet for his own use ; and so wonderful was the luxury 
and refinement at Heidelberg that several times during the 
banquet the guests were given clean platters of silver and 
even of gold. Often, too, pages presented the revellers with 
bowls filled with lavender- scented water wherein to wash, 
and delicate linen napkins wherewith to dry their hands. 

At eight of the clock the guests assembled in the Hall 
of Mirrors, and the musicians struck up a gay yet stately 
measure. Old Anhalt led out the Electress Juliane, 
Prince Friedrich danced with the Lady of Hirschhorn, 
while her Highness Elizabeth gave her hand to Prince 
Christel. In stiff and stately grace the old Electress 
paced across the marble floor in the sliding, swaying steps 
of the ancient pavyn, and Prince Friedrich followed with 
the dignified portly Lady of Hirschhorn. 

" Do you know, sweet cousin, the words which go with 
this pavyn tune ? " whispered Christel as they stood at 
the upper end of the hall, while the other couples accom- 
plished their solemn dance. 



WARNING 91 

" Are there words to it, Christel ? " she answered ; " say 
them to me as we dance." She gave him her hand, and 
commenced the slow, gliding motion. He lifted her hand 
high, and bending towards her he murmured as they swept 
forward through the long room : 

" Belle qui tiens ma vie 
Captive sous tes yeulx, 
Qui m'as I'ame ravie 
D'un sourire gracieux, 
Viens tot me secourir 
Ou me fauldra mourir." 

The verse was indeed that of the ancient pavyn melody ; 
it fell from his lips in rhythm to the stately measure, 
and as he whispered the last words the dance ended, 
and he bowed low, while Elizabeth Stuart bent in a deep 
obeisance. 

" Do not die yet, cousin," she said, laughing ; " you shall 
woo me to dance at Ratisbon, and we will tread a pavyn 
once more together." She turned towards the Electress- 
mother. " I shall not dance a galliard so early in the 
night's pleasure, ma mere. We will watch the merry 
ones a-hopping it." The music rang out in a tripping, 
hurried measure, and in an instant the hall was full of 
energetic dancers. Her Highness sat beside Juliane. 

" A galliard is an absurd thing," she said gaily. " Look ! 
ma mere — one, two, three, four, hop and spring ! It is 
mighty diverting to dance it, but a monstrous silly 
sight ! " 

" Ah ! ma fille, when I first came here from Holland 
they danced the volte at court ! Have you never seen 
one ? Well, the peasants dance it still, and I warrant an 
we asked the Lady of Hirschhorn she would be ready to 
show it us," answered Juliane. 

" We will ask her ; we must ask her ! " cried the im- 
petuous one. " Dear lady, will you tread a volte for me 
to see ? " she called to the lady, who stood near. 

" Tread a volte ? " the worthy Hirschhorn answered, with 
a good-humoured laugh. " Your Highness, there is mighty 



92 THE WINTER QUEEN 

little treading in a volte, and 1 am too old by twenty- 
summers for such a jigging." 

But Elizabeth Stuart, like a child in the vehemence of 
her wishes, importuned the Lady of Hirschhorn : it was, 
" Oh, madame, pray dance me a volte ! " and " Sweet 
madame, you are as young as a fine midsummer day. 
Do pace me the volte ! " till at length the worthy matron 
confessed that her niece Margarete Handschusheim knew 
the old jig, and that the junker of Hirschhorn had often 
danced it at the village kermess. Then her Highness 
called for the tune. Here was another difficulty; the 
musicians knew it well, but they declared that the old 
dudelsack, the shrill, wind-blown peasant pipes, was needed 
to play it aright. Off to the menials' quarters sped pages 
and cavaliers, and soon the piper was brought to the Hall 
of Mirrors. 

Hans Hirschhorn and Margarete joined their left 
hands ; with his right hand he grasped her firmly at 
the back, while with her right hand she held down 
her skirts in front. They gave a little hop to the left, 
two long steps to the right — and then it was evident 
why the Junker grasped his partner at the back, and 
why she held down her skirts in front, for there followed 
three mighty springs in the air, and the lady was 
flung up and forward till her skirts swirled dangerously 
high ! Ever faster squeaked the pipes, ever quicker hopped 
and jumped the dancers. No graceful, courtly dance 
indeed, but hilarious and rough. And Elizabeth Stuart 
laughed until her eyes were dim with merriment's tears. 
As if the spirit of gaiety had banished ceremony from the 
Hall of Mirrors, laughter took the place of grave decorum, 
and dance after dance of olden days succeeded one another 
that evening. There were the galliard and the branle, the 
courante and the bassedance, and her Highness Elizabeth 
tripped and jigged with all the zest of her healthful youth. 
How she laughed, too, when they told her the words of 
the galliard tunes : " J'aimerais mieux dormir seulette," 
" Baisons nous Belle, la lune ne voit pas," and the rest of 
the fond old rhymes. 



WARNING 93 

Some one proposed to dance a roundel, and there was 
no lack of choice of these rollicking, old-fashioned dances. 
There was " La Lavandi^re," a playful ring with hand- 
clapping, mimic chasing of partners, and as termination 
a circle formed by the dancers singing a spirited chorus. 
Then came the "Branle k la Haye," whose delicious 
finale gave each cavalier the right to kiss his lady on the 
cheek. 

" Cousin, cousin ! " laughed his Highness to Prince 
Christel, " I would have dared to stake mine honour that 
you would dance the ' Branle des Baisers ' with my Lady 
Elizabeth." 

"And I would have risked my soul for so sweet a 
dance ! " Christel answered. Her Highness, who stood 
near, laughed lightly. 

" I challenge you, cousin Christel, to dance a branle 
with me at Ratisbon at the solemn feast. And you, my 
lord," she cried, turning to Prince Friedrich, " you, dear 
my lord, shall hop a volte with her portly Majesty of 
Austria ! " 

As she spoke it seemed to her that a chill breath of 
pending evil touched her, and the laughter froze on her 
lips. She turned away from Prince Friedrich and Christel, 
and seating herself she passed her white fingers wearily 
across her brow. 

At the doorway there was a sudden confusion among 
the laughing crowd, and a tall gaunt figure in a shabby 
doublet burst through the finely arrayed throng of revel- 
lers. A man with blanched and haggard face, with wild 
eyes and ill-trimmed beard, shouldered his way roughly 
past the astonished dancers. As he passed up the long 
hall towards Elizabeth Stuart a hush fell on the assembly. 
He seemed to be the incarnation of the sinister, and the 
mirrors on the walls reflected the gaunt figure and made 
the one man's advent appear like the advance of a hundred 
grim intruders. It was as though the thousand candles 
in the crystal chandeliers shed a fainter radiance, as 
though this one figure of gloom had in very fact cast a 
shadow on the gay scene. 



94 THE WINTER QUEEN 

The man fell on his knees before her Highness. " Thank 
God ! I am returned in time, madame ! " he said hoarsely. 

" Captain Bell ! " she cried, springing up. " Sir, what 
message of ill-fortune do you bring ? " 

" Madame — go not to Prague ! " he cried wildly. 

"To Prague? Nay — I journey to-morrow to the Im- 
perial Court at Ratisbon," she answered. 

" Go not — go not — I have proof — -poison." He choked, 
and clutched at the neckband of his stiff pickadell. 

" Poison " he muttered, and with a groan fell forward 

senseless at her Highness's feet. 



CHAPTEE VI 

THE WEB 

" While hunters bold ride homeward with the spoil ; 
While bugles ring, and forest echoes cry ; 
While mowers laugh, while reapers sing and toil ; 

While vintage bands go, like a revel, by ; 
While bridals pass, while poor men bless, 

While Yule is blithe, while summer fair, 
Oh ! would'st thou change the flowing songs of peace 
For triumphs, and — despair ? " 

— Frederick Tennyson. 

IT was a sinister ending to the merriment, and the 
guests hurrying away from the castle whispered 'that 
the shabby stranger must have brought news of dire 
import. It seemed that he had ridden to the gate on a 
steed so wretchedly weary that the ostlers, who had led the 
trembling animal to the stables, had feared that the poor 
beast would die incontinent. The rider himself had refused 
food and rest, had drained a cup of sack, had changed his 
dusty garments, and had hurried to the Hall of Mirrors. 
Such haste, such neglect of self, proclaimed him to be the 
bearer of disastrous tidings, the guests contended. 

In the Hall of Mirrors the waxen candles flared and 
guttered in the silver sockets, and the dawn peeped 
through the windows at a group of persons in gay attire 
standing around a haggard man in a shabby doublet. Her 
Highness Elizabeth, seated in the gilded chair, whence a 
short hour since she had watched the volte dancers, leaned 
her head wearily on her hand. Louise Juliane stood near, 
and her hand rested on Prince Friedrich's shoulder. Old 
Prince Christian of Anhalt, with frowning brows, stood 
erect and fierce, his eyes aflame with hatred and anger. 
Prince Christel stood behind her Highness's chair ; Master 
Scultetus, sombre and grim, and Count Schomberg were 



96 THE WINTER QUEEN 

there, and Amalia Solms, who clung to my Lady of Har- 
rington in hysterical fear. Captain Bell, returned to con- 
sciousness, had been plied with food and wine, and now 
was telling his story in quick, short sentences. He told 
how he had journeyed into England almost without draw- 
ing bridle, but that, arrived in London, he had found that 
King James was at Theobalds. The Duke of Buckingham, 
however, had been at his lodging in the Palace of White- 
hall, and Bell had craved audience of his Grace, which had 
been promised. He had waited four days in the duke's 
antechamber, but the crowd of petitioners had been so 
great that each day he had been sent away without speech 
of his Grace. " I had no gold — or not enough to purchase 
such an honour," he said bitterly. At last he had hidden 
in the embrasure of one of the windows, and after waiting 
many hours had been rewarded by seeing my lord duke 
come into the antechamber on his way to his barge, which 
waited at the river steps. He had flung himself on his 
knees before Buckingham, and though the attendants had 
endeavoured to drag him away, his loud cry that he sought 
not office or advancement, but that he brought news of her 
Highness Palatine, had arrested the duke's attention. He 
had shown him the papers and told his story, and his 
Grace had despatched him to Theobalds with credentials 
which procured him immediate audience of King James. 
" I found his Majesty in the gardens in the midst of a 
game of bowls, and in the intervals of the game his 
Majesty listened to my tale and glanced at the papers. 
He averred that it was all a trumped-up history. There 
was one document in Latin, and the King was soon engaged 
in pointing out the faults of grammar and style therein. 
He rated me soundly when I said I knew little of Latin, 
and he then plunged into a learned discourse on the ' dear 
humanities,' and the necessity of learning for the proper 
understanding of life. I cried out that an none hastened 
to stay the Lady Elizabeth's journey to the Imperial Court, 
her understanding of life would be completed by the know- 
ledge of death ; but his Majesty in wrath bade me begone, 
saying that haste and wisdom did ne'er walk hand in hand 



THE WEB 97 

— that I had haste and he had wisdom. He named me 
a ' domned fule,' " Bell added, with a short laugh. Her 
Highness smiled. 

" You bring me a very breath of home, sir," she said 
lightly ; " but hasten to the end of your story." 

" Well, madame, I rode back to London to his Grace of 
Buckingham, gave him the papers, and set myself to wait. 
Days passed, and at length I decided to return hither and 
tell your Highness what had occurred, and the very morn- 
ing I was prepared to depart I was summoned to White- 
hall to his Majesty. News had come, both from Vienna 
and from Sir Henry Wotton out of Italy, that there was 
something afoot against your Highness, and this, taken 
with the papers I had brought, convinced his Majesty of 
the danger. The poison is ready, madame ; Death awaits 
you at Katisbon, or wherever you visit the Imperial Court." 

" Have you no letter from his Majesty ? " inquired her 
Highness. 

" Your pardon, madame ! " Bell answered, " I have 
despatches here. Forgive me ; but I have ridden from 
Whitehall in six days, and I am near mad with 
weariness." 

" Sir, I thank you for your devotion," said Elizabeth 
kindly, " and I will not go to Katisbon ! " A tear stole 
down her cheek. 

" Dear my heart ! " whispered Friedrich, " you are weary 
and alarmed by this fearful thing. Do not weep, sweet 
madame, you are safe here." 

" Nay, I but give a tear to Fate, who always prevents 
my diverting myself ! I will not go to Katisbon, but I am 
mighty loth to give up the jaunt. Good lack! I vow I 
am weary of safety ! " she cried. 

Thus it fell out that the projected journey to the 
Imperial Court did not take place. Once more life at 
Heidelberg resumed its peaceful course ; albeit a breath 
of unrest, an unwonted sense of some unnamed menace, 
seemed to brood over all. The hunts and banquets, the 
long quiet days of drowsy peace went their accustomed 

G 



98 THE WINTER QUEEN 

"way, and no events of importance came to rob Heidelberg 
of its easy, happy security of commonplace, familiar life. 
And yet, from the hour when Bell had interrupted the 
dancing in the Hall of Mirrors, there was some elusive 
hint of danger and change underlying the stillness. Louise 
Juliane, during her frequent visits to the Castle, felt this 
undefined menace ; her Highness Elizabeth, too, was aware 
of it, but she ascribed it to the restless weariness which 
prolonged monotony, even of ease, breeds in " a living 
woman," as she said. To evade this irksome sense of 
pending evil she flung herself even more than of yore into 
gaieties. There was hunting, dancing, play-acting, and 
merry journeys to Amberg ; inspections of the stronghold 
at Mannheim ; secret visits to Frankfurt, where her High- 
ness went disguised in a burgher-dame's sober gown of 
mokkadoe, with no fardingale but ample skirts, and on her 
head a broad-brimmed plain hat, and to hide her laughing 
face her black-velvet mask. This latter spoiled the disguise 
of an ordinary burgher's wife ; but in the crowded narrow 
streets few stayed to notice, and if they did observe her, 
the merchants believed that she was some patrician's lady 
playing her naughty pranks, and well disguised for fear of 
her good man's ire. 

Yet no merrymaking and diversion could hide from the 
whole Court that Prince Friedrich was morose and anxious, 
and that each day his confabulations with Master Scultetus 
grew longer. Constantly messengers arrived bearing im- 
portant letters from all parts of Europe, and often the grey 
dawn came through the windows of his Highness's writing- 
room, and peered at the wan young face bending over a 
pile of closely written sheets, while a harsh-featured, 
black- clad Calvinist stood near, like the incarnation of 
care and inexorable purpose. Above this writing-room 
was a chamber where, in a great damask-hung bed, a 
woman lay asleep — so the dawn saw — and could the 
peering Dawn have looked into the man's heart, she would 
have seen that he laboured and intrigued but to make 
this woman a queen ; though had the Dawn been able to 
read the man's thoughts, she would have found that he 



THE WEB 99 

called his lover's ambition by the name of Religion, for so 
did the heart trick the brain. 

Small marvel that Prince Friedrich's brow was clouded 
with anxiety, for, as Juliane had long dreaded, he was being 
steadily sucked into the whirlpool of European intrigue. 
It was about this time that Count Ernest Mansfeld came 
to Heidelberg. His father had been a boon companion 
of Friedrich IV. of the Palatine, but the bastard Ernest 
Mansfeld had spent years in the service of many masters, 
and had found no occasion to visit Heidelberg, the abode of 
peace. War was his art, and he was a famous and skilful 
captain. Her Highness Elizabeth was amused and attracted 
by the soldier of fortune's recklessness, and he, on his 
side, fell a victim to her potent charm. She named 
him " Monsieur le Brigand," and he rejoined shrewdly 
that a brigand's sword was sometimes a surer friend 
than many a prince's. Old Christian of Anhalt, who, 
having been out with the Palatine troops in the 
Cleves-Jiilich Succession affair, considered himself a 
great captain, though, in truth, he had scarce smelled 
the scent of powder and carnage, and had never led even 
a company into battle — old Anhalt frowned at the con- 
dottiere's audacious saying, and from that day forward 
held him in disfavour. 

The Princes of the Protestant Union were frequent 
visitors at Heidelberg at this time. There came his 
Highness the Elector of Saxony, rough, uncouth, a devout 
lover of the flowing bowl, and a very Nimrod of the 
chase ; but when for an hour he was not hunting, nor his 
brain swamped in liquor, he was a shrewd, unscrupulous 
man. Even in his cups he could hold long theological 
discourses with Master Scultetus, and high words were 
often exchanged, for John George of Saxony was a con- 
vinced Lutheran, and he hated Calvinistic dogma almost 
more than the doctrine of the Church of Rome. Caustic 
sayings, too, passed between him and old Anhalt, for the 
Saxon was well disposed towards the House of Hapsburg, 
and Anhalt knew no measure in his hatred of the 
" Austrian oppressors," as he named them. 



100 THE WINTER QUEEN 

The Bohemians had offered their crown in 1614 to John 
George ; but the Saxon, partly too loyal to the Emperor, 
partly too lazy and attached to his drunken ease, or per- 
chance too wily, in or out of his cups, had refused the offer ; 
and after years of intrigue by all parties, Ferdinand of Styria 
had at length been crowned King of Bohemia in 1617. 

Another personage who often sojourned at Heidelberg's 
Court was Prince Friedrich's brother-in-law, George 
William, son of the Elector of Brandenburg. A feeble, 
undistinguished creature this HohenzoUern, a man for 
ever fearful of committing himself. " Our fond brother 
sits eternally on a stile between two fields," Elizabeth 
was wont to say of him. " He could ne'er be a foe save 
through fear for his own skin, but God grant I may never 
need to depend on his friendship ! " Alas ! it was destined 
that she should turn to George William of Brandenburg 
in her direst need, and find him so weak a friend that a 
generous and chivalrous foe would have stood her in 
better stead. 

The Princes of the Union were much occupied with 
Bohemian affairs, and Friedrich of the Palatinate in especial 
concerned himself with this sorry business. Urged by 
Scultetus, he had repeatedly sent monies to aid the 
Bohemian church-builders, and he had secretly encouraged 
the malcontent nobles to hope for his help, if their dis- 
affection towards the Emperor should end in open revolt. 
In fact Heidelberg, from being a court of love and gaiety, 
had become the gloomy centre of Protestant intrigue ; and 
Friedrich, feeble, honest, rash, and enthusiastic, was the 
unstable pivot whereon the machinations of Europe turned 
— a frail pivot, bent for ever in one direction by a strong, 
relentless hand, by the fierce, bony fingers of Scultetus, the 
bigoted, ambitious Calvinist. Wretched pivot ! a man 
with a heart burning with a woman's beauty, and a 
weak, ardent soul tortured by a cruel religion ! 

Europe was a maze of intrigue at this time : intrigues 
in England for and against the Spanish match between 
Prince Charles and the Infanta ; France intriguing for his 
marriage with a French princess ; Holland negotiating for 



THE WEB 101 

his liand for a German highness ; and all this matrimonial 
web around the actual prizes of ducats, religion, power. 
The Duke of Savoy was intriguing to become emperor 
himself, and in secret documents was assigning the crown 
of Bohemia to Prince Friedrich ; or in a second mysterious 
arrangement he allotted Hungary to Friedrich, besides 
Alsace and a slice of Austria, while for himself he de- 
cided to take Bohemia. The Catholic princes of the 
League also amused themselves with reportioning Central 
Europe, at the expense, of course, of the Protestant princes. 
And all these plans and plots were brought to Heidelberg 
in confidential writings and by secret messengers from the 
Protestant schemers, and by spies upon the Catholic party. 
Openly Europe was at peace, but men's hearts were black 
with lust of power, and religion fired the slime of greedy 
ambition till it rose up in a boiling vapour and hung over 
the world as a lowering cloud of war. 

For many months the talk at Heidelberg had been of 
the new Protestant churches in Bohemia. Not only in the 
council chamber with Master Scultetus, but at the banquet 
board and in her Highness's presence the question was 
endlessly discussed. 

" My lord, my dear lord ! I am weary of Braunau and 
Klostergrab ! " Elizabeth cried one day. But the shadow 
on Prince Friedrich's brow deepened, and her Highness 
set herself to listen patiently. 

" The whole future of Protestantism depends upon the 
settlements regarding these two churches, madame," Scul- 
tetus said. 

" Tell me, then, Hochwiirden ; I am not clear as to the 
facts," she answered a little wearily. It was a grey, un- 
friendly March day, and the wind howled dismally round 
the " Dicke Thurm " and shook the windows of her High- 
ness's withdrawing room. Elizabeth sat at her embroidery 
frame, and Prince Friedrich had drawn a low tabouret and 
sat near her. A log-fire blazed in the open grate, and 
Jacko the monkey crouched close to the warmth. Her 
Highness's spaniel lay at her feet, eyeing Master Scultetus' 
thin legs with an unfriendly gaze. Ever and anon a burst 



102 THE WINTER QUEEN 

of laughter came from the ante-chamber, and Prince 
Christel's voice was heard as he jested with the courtiers. 

" Your highness may remember that the Braunau and 
Klostergrab affair has been playing some time ? " Scultetus 
began. 

" We have spoken of it for the last hundred and ten 
years, methinks, sir," Elizabeth interrupted lightly. Scul- 
tetus stared at her for a moment in a puzzled way ; then 
his stern face grew sterner. 

" This is no laughing matter, madame," he said harshly. 
" Our persecuted brethren in Bohemia^ " 

Again she interrupted. 

" My persecuted brethren. Master Scultetus ; they are 
Lutherans and therefore my brethren. Whatever you 
may be to the Bohemians, you are no friend to German 
Lutherans, sir ; your Calvinistic conscience forbids it ! " 

" Your Highness," he answered gravely, though a 
flush of embarrassment glowed on his lean cheek, " your 
Highness, the cause of religious freedom, the strife 
against the scarlet woman of Rome, enlists our united 
strength. We do not remember the errors of Luther 
when we are fighting side by side with Lutherans against 
the thrice-accursed idolatry of Rome." 

" Then, sir, I am to understand that it is only during 
times of peace that Calvinists and Lutherans revile one 
another ; nay, would kill each other an they could," she 
said coldly. 

" Alas, madame, we fight Luther's lax rule, his Popish 
ritual which the Lutherans have retained from the 
hideous ceremonies of olden time. But when Rome 
oppresses we must needs join hands to fight Antichrist," 
he answered. 

" Master Scultetus, a Church divided against itself can 
never conquer a Church united," she replied quietly. 

" The Word of God shall triumph in the end ! When 
Romish error has vanished with the other heathen idola- 
tries, then shall the pure and perfect teaching of Calvin 
speak so plainly to the misled Lutherans that they will 
voluntarily renounce their errors," he said. Her Highness's 



THE WEB 103 

hand fell listlessly from her embroidery, she leaned her 
head against the back of her chair. 

" I am no theologian, sir ; I beg you expound the history 
of Braunau and Klostergrab," she said, and a sigh of 
weariness parted her lips. 

" As your Highness is aware, the Protestants of Braunau 
had built a tabernacle unto the Lord. The Popish abbot 
of the monastery at Braunau, after cruelly persecuting 
the builders, denounced them to the Emperor. His 
Majesty handed over the matter to the Archbishop of 
Prague. This servant of Belial was already wickedly 
incensed because the Lutherans, relying on the permission 
to build contained in the Letter of Majesty of 1609, had 
builded a church in the archbishop's see at Klostergrab. 
First the iniquitous prelate caused both churches to be 
closed and the doors sealed with his seal. Then, when 
our oppressed brethren broke into their own churches and 
preached the Word, the vile archpriest ordered the 
churches to be demolished. In three days the sacred 
edifices were razed to the ground — in three days the 
work of years was destroyed ! The children of God stood 
by and could not save the holy buildings from the wrath 
of the ungodly." Scultetus sprang up in his excitement ; 
raising his arm in a gesture of menace, he shouted : " Ac- 
cursed be the destroyers ! The vengeance of God be upon 
them ! " With a snarl her Highness's spaniel rushed at 
the exalted divine's legs and buried his teeth in his 
Reverence's black gaiters. 

" Curly, come here ! Curly, you master-scoundrel, 
come back ! " called her Highness, but the little brown dog 
held fast. Scultetus stood trembling. 

" Call him off, madame, for Christ's sake ! He will do 
me a hurt ! " he shrilled. 

" Curly — ■ will you come ? Oh ! you little monster, 
leave hold ! " her Highness said, but her voice was choked 
with laughter. " He will not hurt you, sir, he is old and 
his teeth are weak ; he cannot bite through your gaiters. 
Curly, come here ! " She rose, and, catching up the little 
dog, gave him a few soft taps on his blunt brown nose. 



104 THE WINTER QUEEN 

Elizabeth, like all the Stuarts, had such a tenderness for 
animals that even when she punished them the whipping 
seemed to be a series of caresses. But Curly cowered to 
her breast and whined piteously. There are some human 
souls which are so closely knit to the faithful dogs' souls 
that there is no need for blows to inflict punishment ; the 
patient dependent dog-soul is chastised enough by the 
knowledge that that wonderful all-powerful being "his 
master " is displeased. 

" There, sir," cried Elizabeth to the irate preacher, 
who stood rubbing his gaitered leg — " there, sir, I have 
punished Curly severely." 

" Your pardon, Hochwiirden ! " said Prince Friedrich, 
" but indeed her Highness has beaten the offender cruelly." 
He laughed; then,bending close to Elizabeth,he whispered: 
" Curly is a thief, madame ma mie, for so delicious a 
beating I would give a day of my life." 

" Dear heart, I could ne'er beat you even thus," she 
murmured, with a glance of tenderness at Friedrich's dark 
face. 

Peace restored, Master Scultetus recommenced his 
story. He told how the Bohemian Protestants had ap- 
pointed commissioners, styled defenders, to negotiate terms 
with the Emperor. At the head of these defenders Count 
Thurn had repaired to the Imperial Court, and had laid a 
statement of the Protestant grievances before his Majesty ; 
the Emperor had given as answer the legal quibble that 
by the Letter of Majesty, though the Protestants were en- 
titled to build on Crown land, this permission did not 
extend to the building of "heretical barns" on lands 
rightfully held by the holy Roman Church. Further, his 
Majesty had announced that as the Bohemian nobles 
claimed the right of appointing both pastors and cult on 
their estates, he would henceforth not be less than his own 
nobles and would force the true religion on all his subjects. 

" The whole of Bohemia is smouldering in revolt," con- 
tinued Scultetus. " The pastors expelled from their 
parishes on Crown lands are wandering over the country 
seeking refuge on the estates of the Protestant nobles. 



THE WEB 105 

The peasants are fleeing before the oppressor, but those 
who have not deserted their homes are driven to the 
abominable mass by Imperial soldiers, are driven before the 
whip, madame ; and there are cases where the soldiers have 
thrown away their whips and goaded the saintly martyrs 
at the sword's point. Truly the children of God have 
entered into the house of bondage ! " 

" And these are good peaceful men who but ask for 
freedom of worship ? " queried her Highness. 

" Madame, the Bohemians have never been at peace, 
for they have always been oppressed," Scultetus answered 
solemnly. 

" But, sir, the Emperor Matthias is a gentle, peaceful 
man ; doubt you that, an he knew aright the cruelties prac- 
tised in his name, he would not show mercy ? " she asked. 

" There is no mercy in the adherents of the Church of 
Satan," he replied harshly. Her Highness sighed ; she 
doubted if an abundance of mercy was stored in the 
Calvinist's soul. 

" Madame, we shall see if the Emperor can be moved 
by a true statement of the case. Three weeks ago the 
defenders summoned a meeting of the Bohemian Protes- 
tants, and they drew up a document which will be pre- 
sented to his Majesty. In May another meeting of God's 
elect is to be convened at Prague to discuss the imperial 
answer," he said. 

" And if the answer is unfavourable ? " she asked. 

" War, madame ! War for our conscience' sake ! With 
blood we will avenge the unchristian cruelties of our 
idolatrous foes," he said sternly. 

" Alas, sir, murder for Christ's sake ? " she said in a 
low voice. 

" The meek Saviour shall battle with us for the truth, 
and the idolaters shall perish and burn for ever in the 
flames of hell ! " he cried wildly. Prince Friedrich's eyes 
glowed with a fierce light. But Elizabeth Stuart sighed, 

Protestant Europe awaited the Emperor's answer 
anxiously. It was whispered that if his Majesty persisted 



106 THE WINTER QUEEN 

in his course of oppression of the turbulent Bohemian 
Lutherans, the Protestant Princes of the Union would be 
obliged, for their honour's sake, to fly to arms in the cause 
of their co-religionists. More moderate men objected 
that the Bohemians were an unruly race, and that their 
religious tenets were but the pretext of their revolt against 
the hated House of Hapsburg. What madness, said these 
wise ones, what madness to plunge Germany into warfare 
for the sake of a handful of fanatical malcontents ! But 
there were other voices whispering of material advantages 
to the Protestant Princes to be gained by a religious war 
with Austria. The Duke of Bouillon urged his kinsman 
Friedrich of the Palatinate to wrest a kingdom for him- 
self out of the Hapsburg holding ; and the Duke of Savoy 
intrigued and lusted after increase of power. 

Spring came, and in spite of Friedrich's anxious face, 
of Scultetus' sombre words, and of Duke Christian of 
Anhalt's diatribes against the House of Hapsburg, the 
Court of Heidelberg made merry, and Elizabeth, joying 
in spring's pageant, laughed and jested, forgetting the 
cloud which hovered over the world, that war-cloud which 
hung on the word of an aged, ailing man, on the yea or 
nay of the Emperor Matthias to the Bohemian Lutherans. 
The long, low hills round Heidelberg were blossom-crowned, 
the castle gardens were filled with the fragrance of the 
first roses, the quiet Neckar flowed between the green 
banks. Elizabeth Stuart, returned from her ride through 
the woods, stood on the broad terrace overlooking the valley. 

" What a peace there is over the world to-day, Christel," 
she said to young Anhalt as she drew off her gauntlet 
and stroked the spaniel Curly's head. 

" It is very beautiful, cousin," Prince Christian an- 
swered ; " and yet my father would have me leave you 
and go seek some work, some soldier's honour." 

" But where would he have you go ? There is little 
doing in the world just now," she said thoughtfully. 
" Even Mansfeld's troops are lying fallow." 

As she spoke the sound of loud voices broke the still- 
ness, and Prince Friedrich, followed by Scultetus and Duke 



THE WEB 107 

Christian, came through the archway from the courtyard. 
The Palsgrave's face was flushed, and he held a bundle of 
papers in his hand. 

" News, madame ! " he cried excitedly. " Splendid news 
from Bohemia ! Our brethren have defied the oppressor, 
and now the Truth shall triumph." 

Elizabeth glanced at Scultetus. Though it was Prince 
Friedrich who spoke, she recognised the words as an echo 
of his Reverence's utterances. 

" Has the Emperor's answer arrived, sir ? " she said 
quickly, 

" It has come, and our answer to him has been given — 
given gloriously ! " cried Friedrich. 

" What is the answer ? " she asked, and her breath came 
fast between her parted lips. 

" Death gave the answer, madame ! " said Scultetus, 
and his harsh voice sounded as a knell. Then in rapid 
words he told the story of the Defenestration at Prague. 
He told how the news had come to Prague that the 
Emperor's answer was uncompromisingly hostile to the 
Lutherans ; that Count Thurn, receiving this information, 
had convened the nobles secretly, and that in this assembly 
it had been agreed that the document had been drawn up 
at Prague by the hated Lord High Justice of Bohemia, 
Slavata, and his colleague, Martinitz Burggraf of Karl- 
stein, and that the Emperor had but signed this mandate. 
The Protestant conspirators had unanimously condemned 
these imperial agents to death as traitors to Bohemian 
liberty. Early in the morning of May 23 rd the Imperial 
agents had assembled in the Council Hall of the Hradcany 
at Prague, and had awaited the Protestant noblemen. 
There had been four Emperor's men, to wit : Diepold von 
Lobkowitz, Grand Prior of the Order of Malta ; Adam 
von Steinberg, the premier noble of Bohemia ; the hated 
Slavata, and Martinitz. To their surprise, when the 
numerous Lutheran nobles had entered the hall, they had 
seen that they had come fully armed, contrary to the im- 
perial prescription which forbade the bearing of arms in 
the council chamber. Count Thurn had opened the pro- 



108 THE WINTER QUEEN 

ceedings by demanding whether the mandate, the formal 
reading whereof he and his associates had repaired to 
hear, had been written in Vienna. Without giving the 
Imperial Councillors time to reply, he had denounced them 
as traitors to Bohemia. Then in thunderous tones he had 
demanded if they could, on their oath, affirm that the 
mandate had been written in Vienna. 

With dignity the Imperial Councillors had replied that 
they were bound by solemn oath never to divulge the 
business of the council. Their sole duty was to proclaim 
and enforce the imperial edicts. 

With a yell of fury the Lutherans had rushed forward 
and had threatened the councillors with instant death if 
they refused to answer. After a few moments' whispered 
consultation Lobkowitz had replied, in the name of his 
fellow- councillors, that, yielding to overwhelming numbers, 
they would give answer to the preposterous question, and 
their answer was that the document had been entirely 
drawn up, written, and signed in Vienna. If the Lutherans 
desired further information on the subject, they must 
journey to Vienna and interrogate his Majesty himself. 

For an instant the hostile crowd of nobles had hung 
back. They had thought to have proved the councillors 
to have been the authorsi of the mandate, and as such to 
have condemned them to instant death as enemies to 
Bohemia. Now Paul von Rican, a zealous Lutheran, had 
sprung forward and had reminded the assembly how, in 
1609, Slavata and Martinitz alone of all the Bohemian 
nobles had refused to sign the Bond of Peace which had 
been agreed to and signed by the entire Bohemian nobility, 
both Lutheran and Catholic. This, he asserted, was suffi- 
cient proof of their treason to Bohemia. Again the deafen- 
ing clamour had arisen from the Lutherans, and loud 
voices demanded the execution of these enemies of the 
nation. 

" Alas ! that ' der Lange ' (the Imperial Chancellor 
Zdeneck von Lobkowitz) is not here to share their fate ! " 
many had shouted. But fortunately for himself the Chan- 
cellor was in Vienna. Now Diepold von Lobkowitz and 



THE WEB 109 

Adam von Steinberg had. been forcibly ejected from the 
council chamber, and the nobles had thrown themselves 
upon the defenceless Slavata and Martinitz. Half a 
hundred daggers had been at their throats when some 
one had cried out that it were impious to stain Bohemia's 
council chamber with blood. A fearful struggle had 
ensued, but steadily the victims had been dragged to the 
windows overlooking the courtyard. The Imperial Secre- 
tary Fabrizius had implored Count Schlick to show mercy 
to the councillors, but the wretched underling clerk, for 
his pains, had been seized and dragged towards the win- 
dows. Slavata had clung desperately to the ledge, but 
his assailants had ruthlessly loosed his clinging hands 
and had flung him down — down a hundred feet into the 
courtyard below. From another window Martinitz had 
been hurled to his doom, and Fabrizius, the harmless, 
subordinate clerk, had been dashed headlong after his 
masters. For an instant the accomplishment of their 
design had sobered the fury of God's gentle Lutheran 
lambs. But their righteous wrath had broken forth again 
when they had seen the Romish criminals crawl away, if 
not unharmed, at least alive. 

" Dauntless in their just vengeance," cried Scultetus, 
" Count Thurn and a number of nobles hurried away to 
complete the execution, while those who remained at the 
windows fired their pistols repeatedly at the condemned 
traitors. But Martinitz and the secretary escaped, and 
some of the Chancellor's servants carried Slavata to their 
master's neighbouring house. Soon Count Thurn and his 
adherents were thundering at the closed doors. A window 
was flung open, and Dame Polixena von Lobkowitz, an 
abandoned Romish woman, wife to the iniquitous Chan- 
cellor, appeared. " You shall kill me an you will, but I 
will never give up to you a dying man, a man who is a 
friend and kinsman to you as to me," she said. Thurn in 
his meek Christian mercy gave her answer that justice had 
been done if the traitor Slavata were indeed a dying man. 
She cried out that God's angels had borne up Slavata and 
saved him that he might die in peace after receiving the 



110 THE WINTER QUEEN 

sacraments of his Church. Angels ! " Scultetus laughed 
hoarsely ; " Satan himself aids the Papists. Know you, 
madame, what saved the ungodly in their fall ? A dung- 
heap ! There was a dung-heap beneath the windows of 
the Hradcany, and into this foul bed the oppressors fell 
soft ! " 

" But they live, master ? You said that death had an- 
swered ? " her Highness queried with blanched lips. 

" Death has spoken, though by Satan's will the dying 
Slavata^ lived to taste the horrible mockery of the so-called 
sacrament. Death has spoken, nay, more ! Death riding 
the mighty steed of War rides through Bohemia. Death 
crushes the heathen and deals punishment to the idolaters, 
to the votaries of Antichrist," he thundered. 

" Vengeance on the House of Hapsburg ! " cried Duke 
Christian of Anhalt, and, drawing his sword, he kissed the 
blade so fiercely that his mouth left a trace of blood upon 
the steel. 

" Honour and freedom for the true Faith ! " cried Frie- 
rich, and, snatching the sword from Anhalt, he kissed it 
reverently. He started, and with a stifled exclamation let 
the sword fall to the ground and drew his hand across his 
face ; his lips had touched the wet stain on the blade, and 
the taste of blood was bitter in his mouth. 

" Swear, you wanton boy ! " roared Anhalt to Prince 
Christel. " Swear to do battle in this holy war against the 
accursed Hapsburgs." He bent and raised the sword from 
the ground. " Swear ! " he said sternly, and held the blade 
to his son's lips. 

" Where my cousin of the Palatinate leads, there will I 
follow till death," Christel said, and his blue eyes rested 
sadly on Elizabeth Stuart as he kissed the sword. 

1 As a fact William Slavata lived to the age of ninety, and wrote in the 
Bohemian language his memoirs, wherein he gave his version of the 
Defenestration, and a bitterly hostile account of King Friedrich's reign. 
He also compiled a history of Bohemia in twelve volumes. 



CHAPTER yil 

THE GREAT WAE'S PRELUDE 

" Now o'er the palsied earth stalks Giant Fear, 
With War and Woe and Terror in his train." 

— Shelley. 

DEATH, riding tlie mighty steed of War, thundered 
through Bohemia, and from far and wide came 
Death's grim servitors, those hordes of mercenary 
soldiers whose trade was bloodshed. At Heidelberg mes- 
sengers from the insurgents arrived daily, and the talk of 
castle and of town was endlessly of Bohemian affairs. The 
cloud on Prince Friedrich's brow deepened, and her High- 
ness vowed that she had lost a husband and found a gloomy 
statesman in his stead. She jested, but what irked her 
was the haunting feeling that there were projects afoot 
which Friedrich, Master Scultetus, and old Anhalt kept 
from her knowledge. 

One night Elizabeth was restless, and the more she 
wooed the god of sleep, the more the fiend of wakefulness 
tormented her. All the distorted imaginings which lurk 
in the brain to torture the wakeful came to her. Was 
something terrible going to befall her ? She remembered 
the old saying that the Stuarts were gifted with second 
sight. Was some revelation of impending doom coming 
to her ? She recalled the Lady of Harrington's calm smile 
when she had asked her if this mysterious divination lived 
in the Stuart race. 

" They might have been wiser men had they possessed 
it, sweet child ; but God in His mercy withholds all know- 
ledge of our destiny. Second sight, forsooth ! It is an 
old wife's tale, and contrary to both religion and good 
sense," she had answered. If only the Lady of Harring- 
ton had been still in Heidelberg, Elizabeth would have 



112 THE WINTER QUEEN 

gone to her and poured out lier doleful ponderings, and 
sure, one half-hour of her placid reasoning would have 
banished all forebodings. But Lady Harrington had re- 
turned to England. Then came the thought of her beloved 
friend, and the ever-present sadness of her death : " Anne, 
sweet Anne Dudley ! " her Highness murmured, " it was 
a cruel God who took you from me. I need you, dear 
one ! " Impatiently Elizabeth threw back the embroidered 
coverlet. Mental anguish turned to physical discomfort, 
and she felt breathless and oppressed. She pushed aside 
the heavy damask curtain of her bed and listened 
anxiously. Silence wrapped the world, and yet some 
undefined sense of stirring haunted her. She rose, and 
feeling her way through the darkness to the window, she 
opened her casement and leaned out. The night breeze 
wafted the scent of roses to her. 

" How still it is," she whispered. Below her the ter- 
raced garden seemed to dream deliciously in the white 
moonlight, long shadows fell athwart the pathways from 
the statues, the fountains were not playing, silence reigned. 
For some time Elizabeth Stuart leaned out of her case- 
ment, the fragrant night air calmed her restlessness, and 
like a gentle hand sleep weighed down her tired eyelids. 

" I shall rest now," she told herself ; but as she laid her 
hand upon the window, meaning to close it, her attention 
was attracted by two figures which were moving stealthily 
through the gardens. Their shadows fell black and gro- 
tesque on the whiteness of the moonlit pathway. The case- 
ment creaked beneath her Highness's touch, and she saw 
how the men started and drew back into the shadow of the 
terrace wall. After a moment they reappeared, and con- 
tinued their silent, cautious progress. It struck her that 
one of the newcomers was known to her. Where had she 
seen that short, thick-set figure, the one shoulder hunched 
to the large head ? Impossible ! who could identify a man 
in a black cloak and with a slouch hat crushed down on 
his head ? They were close beneath her now. She leaned 
eagerly from out the casement. The intruders paused, as 
though they waited for some signal. After a brief moment 



THE GREAT WAR'S PRELUDE 113 

they passed into the shadow cast by the " English Palace," 
where she was. She waited, expecting them to emerge 
again, but it seemed that the shadow had swallowed them. 
Then she heard the click of a key turning in a lock, and 
immediately afterwards the muffled bang of a carefully 
closed door. Her Highness started. She recognised the 
sound as that of the small heavy garden door leading to 
that portion of the English Palace where was situated 
Prince Friedrich's dwelling. What sought those black- 
cloaked strangers at dead of night in the palace ? What 
meant that secrecy ? Who had admitted them ? Who 
had closed the door so carefully and stealthily ? Fear 
gripped her heart and sent the blood surging in painful 
throbs to her temples. Conspiracy ! — Murder ! 

She sprang forward, and catching up a velvet cloak 
which lay on a chair near she flung it round her and 
swiftly fled from her chamber into the marbled corridor. 
She paused to listen. Deep silence ; and like a stifling 
pall the blackness of night ! Only on the far side of the 
courtyard the moon peered over the high gables of the 
castle and shed her wan light upon the windows of the 
Otto Heinrich's Bau. 

Elizabeth opened the narrow door onto the steep wind- 
ing stairway which led from her apartments to Friedrich's 
dwelling rooms. Darkness enshrouded her, but she felt her 
way by groping against the rough stonework of the wall. 
When she reached the door of his Highness's antehall she 
listened. There was no sound. Her knees bent beneath 
her like a sick woman's. Those cloaked night-birds — 
those stealthy figures were in the palace, here, near her, 
and they gave no sign. She wrenched open the door. Still 
no light and no sound. 

" Friedrich ! " she called, and she heard her own voice, 
weak, tremulous, hardly above a whisper though she had 
tried to call loudly. She felt her way across the room ; 
once she stumbled heavily against a chair. 

" Friedrich ! " she called again. Her eyes, grown used 
to the blackness, noticed now a faint line of light on the 
threshold of his Highness's writing closet ; guided by it she 

H 



114 THE WINTER QUEEN 

found her way to the door. The handle turned loosely in 
her grasp, but the door remained fast. Fear made her 
hands feel weak and limp, yet she smote on the panels 
fiercely. 

" Friedrich ! Are you there ? Open ! Let me in ! " 
she cried. For an instant there was no response ; then 
she heard the sound of a footfall, and his Highness's voice 
answered camly: 

" What would you, dear heart ? I am at work with 
Master Scultetus." 

" Let me in ! " she called. " I must speak with you ! " 
She heard the hiss of a whispered consultation, then slowly 
the inner bolts were withdrawn and the door was opened. 

" Strangers have just been admitted secretly," she began 
hurriedly, then she paused as her eyes fell on two figures 
standing in the shadow beyond the circle of light thrown 
by the waxen tapers on the table. One figure moved 
forward. 

" Your Highness, I crave forgiveness for this nocturnal 
visitation," the man said. 

" My Lord of Mansfeld ! " she cried in surprise. " Sir, 
why do you come like a thief in the night ? " She saw 
how Mansfeld's eyes sought Prince Friedrich's as if in 
question, and how they both half turned to Scultetus as 
though seeking advice. 

" What do you here so secretly ? What is afoot ? " 
she cried angrily. " I will not be banished from all know- 
lege as if I were a prating child. What is your errand, 
gentlemen ? " she added in a haughty tone. Prince Fried- 
rich laid his hand gently on her arm. 

" Count Mansfeld arrived late — unexpectedly " he 

began in a timid, uncertain voice. She cast him a scorn- 
ful glance. 

" I saw these gentlemen arrive, I saw the secrecy where- 
with they were admitted ! Some one expected them, and 
helped them in their mysterious entry ! It was so 
stealthily done that I feared some dark conspiracy. Tut, 
sirs I I will not brook such slinking in my house ! Tell me 
your errand," she commanded. Scultetus came forward. 



THE GREAT WAR'S PRELUDE 115 

" Indeed, madame, these are affairs of State " 

" And no matters for women's meddling," interruped old 
Anhalt roughly. 

" Women, sir ? Women ! Do you count me as the good- 
wife of a burgher ? I am a Princess of Great Britain, and 
mistress of this my Castle of Heidelberg, I would have you 
know ! " she said proudly, and there was that in her tone 
which had rung in the voice of another Elizabeth, she 
whom men had named " King Elizabeth of England." 

The men stood silent, abashed by her vehemence. The 
other stranger, who had hitherto remained half hidden in 
the shadow, came forward. He bowed obsequiously to 
her Highness, and spoke rapidly in Latin to Master Scul- 
tetus. Elizabeth caught the words : " Princeps Savoyae 
— mandat confidentialiter " 

" Nor is it our custom, signer," she said sharply, " for 
strangers to gabble before me in a tongue they believe I 
do not understand." An angry thought flashed through 
her mind. Why had her father forbidden her tutors to 
teach her Latin ? She remembered James the Pedant's 
homilies against " all overlearned lassies." Of a truth, the 
British Solomon's wisdom was mighty unwise in daily use. 

" I command you to tell me your errand," she repeated. 
" My lord count, I beg you to tell me." Her quick in- 
stinct had guessed right ; Mansfeld was the only one of 
that group who would speak out. The others were silenced 
by many considerations, while he, the condottiere, having 
less to lose, cared less for concealment. 

" It is only the purchase of a brigand's sword, madame," 
he said lightly. 

In a flash it came to Elizabeth — the meaning of this 
midnight consultation, the sinister import of Mansfeld's 
secret presence, the reference to the Duke of Savoy. She 
had thought and spoken a hundred times of war, of the 
probability of a vast European conflict, but now the horror 
of the actuality of war touched her with its dread import 
of battle, murder, famine, and despair. For the first time 
she realised dimly what it would mean to her. 

" We need no brigand's swords in peaceful Heidelberg," 



116 THE WINTER QUEEN 

she said quickly. For answer Mansfeld pointed at the 
claart which lay spread out on the table. " Konigreich 
Boheim " was written thereon. Mechanically her High- 
ness passed her fingers across the parchment. With an 
exclamation she drew back ; her hand had left a trace of 
blood upon the chart, a faint line of red from " Boheim " 
into the portion marked " Die Pfalz." 

Prince Friedrich caught her hand and raised it to- 
wards the light. " You are wounded, beloved ? " he cried 
axiously. She glanced at her hand. 

" Probably I rasped my fingers against the stairway 
wall in the dark," she said indifferently. " That is an 
ugly omen," she added, pointing to the stain on the chart. 

" Your Highness has already spilled her blood for the 
sake of the Faith," said Mansfeld, laughing. 

"Sir, this is no time for impious jesting," interposed 
Scultetus. 

" No, Master Scultetus," cried her Highness, " and no 
time for secrecy from me. I know right well wherefore 
my Lord of Mansfeld is summoned hither, and I claim 
full confidence in these affairs, which concern me no 
less than his Highness. Believe me," she turned with a 
shrewd smile to Mansfeld, " to tell a woman half a story 
is dangerous always ; tell her everything, trust her, and 
she is honourably silent." 

Old Anhalt flung out his hands in an angry gesture. 
To him the whole scene was puerile, trifling, incompre- 
hensible. His life was centred in his hatred of the House 
of Hapsburg, and he feared and distrusted women. A 
man with his soul thus passionate with hatred is im- 
possible for a woman to tamper with. But the other 
conspirators were different ; they felt Elizabeth Stuart's 
fascination, they were compelled by it, and charm be- 
gets confidence, often to the ultimate discomfiture of the 
confider. 

The negotiations were continued in her Highness's 
presence. It appeared that the Duke of Savoy proposed 
to sell Mansfeld and some two thousand well-armed, 
thoroughly trained troops. Prince Friedrich undertook 



THE GREAT WAR'S PRELUDE 117 

to bear the chief cost of the campaign, and to pay Savoy 
his price for ceding Mansfeld and his small army. None 
doubted the rebels' ultimate victory, as it was reckoned that 
if the enterprise were once well commenced, not only all 
the Princes of the Protestant Union, but England, Holland, 
and the Venetian Republic would join forces for the over- 
throw of the Hapsburgs and the triumph of the Reformed 
Faith. Then Friedrich would become King of Bohemia, 
and Savoy would annex Moravia and Silesia. The ques- 
tion of the Imperial purple was left undetermined, but it 
was tacitly understood that either Savoy or Prince Fried- 
rich would become Emperor after the death of Matthias. 
In either case entire freedom was promised to the Re- 
formed Churches, both Calvinistic and Lutheran. It 
appeared that most of the Princes of the Protestant Union 
were favourable to this project, but it was also evident 
that only Prince Friedrich had gone further than mere 
talk ; only Friedrich had given arms and money to the 
Bohemian insurgents ; only he and Savoy knew of Mans- 
feld's participation in the Bohemian revolt. It was a far 
different thing for Savoy, an independent Italian prince, 
to enter into this intrigue ; for him there was everything 
to be gained and nothing to lose ; whereas Friedrich, 
Prince of the Empire, risked all, for in case of defeat he 
stood in danger of the ban of the empire, which meant 
the forfeiture of his Electorate and of his possessions. 
This Friedrich set forth in halting words that night, but 
Scultetus, ever ready to play on the ardent heart of his 
pupil, spoke of the advantages to the Reformed Church, 
of how the Princes of the Protestant Union, for very 
shame, could never abandon their brethren in Faith ; and 
Friedrich's enthusiasm, as usual, took fire, fed by this 
fuel, while the real and ever smouldering spark was his 
unspoken ambition to crown Elizabeth queen. So the 
pact was signed and sealed, and Mansfeld despatched to 
Bohemia. 

That summer good news came to Heidelberg, Count 
Thurn, commander-in-chief of the Bohemian forces, laid 
siege to Budweis, and took the town of Krumau. The 



118 THE WINTER QUEEN 

nobles of Austria, for the most part Protestant, refused 
passage to the Hapsburg army, and it was August before 
Bucquoi led the Imperial troops through Moravia into 
Bohemia. Moravia was half-hearted, for although a Pro- 
testant land it was entirely swayed by Zerotin, a Protestant 
too, but a faithful adherent of the Hapsburgs. The cam- 
paign went all too slowly for the ardent schemers at 
Heidelberg, and the summer passed without any decisive 
action. Bucquoi and the Imperial army sought battle, 
but Count Thurn and his Bohemians hung back, feeling 
themselves too weak in numbers. Bohemia, supporting 
two armies, was given over to rapine and famine. Septem- 
ber came and there was still no change, then in October 
the Silesians decided to espouse openly the Bohemian 
cause ; and then, at last, in November Bucquoi was de- 
feated by Thurn near Budweis ; and on the heels of the 
welcome messenger who brought this news to waiting 
Heidelberg came another rider with despatches telling 
how Mansfeld had captured the town of Pilsen, It was 
glorious news ; for Bucquoi, now cut off from Vienna, was 
a victim waiting to be crushed by those two giant hands, 
Thurn and Mansfeld. Glorious news again ! Thurn had 
invaded Austria. He had left troops to watch over the 
defeated Bucquoi, and, counting on the support of the 
disaffected Austrian nobility, he was marching to Vienna. 
The doom of Hapsburg seemed assured, and old Anhalt, 
drunk with vengeance on the hated House, already spoke 
of the glory of the coming Protestant empire ; and Scul- 
tetus fed Friedrich's vision with word pictures of Elizabeth 
Stuart as the first Protestant empress. 

But Death had not sated his lust with the few Bohemian 
battles. It was not enough, and Death dismounted his 
grim steed of Warfare, and dipping his dread sickle into 
the poison of disease, mowed down the flower of the 
Bohemian army. Austria was better served by typhus 
than by Bucquoi. Consternation reigned in Heidelberg 
when these tidings came. Messengers arrived almost daily 
with accounts of the fearful condition of the Bohemian 
army — famine-stricken, unpaid, decimated by disease. It 



THE GREAT WAR'S PRELUDE 119 

was said that each day hundreds died of typhus. Gloom 
settled over Heidelberg, town and castle. Heavy, ener- 
vating weather added to the general depression ; it was as 
though the whole country waited for something — for what 
no man knew. It was " thunder weather," as the peasants 
said, but no storm came to relieve the tension. For weeks 
the skies lowered sunless, unsmiling ; and yet each evening, 
at what should have been set of sun, a dull glow as of a 
smouldering furnace lit the heavens to a sombre glory. 
They said that there were evil omens abroad. Had not 
the smithy's cow borne a calf with three heads ? Had 
not an eagle flown against the castle flagstaff and fallen 
dead ? This foreboded ill, for who did not know that the 
three-headed calf symbolised famine, disease, and ruin ? 
None had seen the monstrous beast, but it had been born, 
they said, for all that. And the eagle ? Ah ! that meant 
death to the owner of Heidelberg Castle. Then a sentry 
told how he had heard a moaning voice in the castle moat 
at dead of night. All knew, too, that Van Somer's picture 
of her Highness as a little maiden had fallen from the 
wall, though both the nails and the cord which had held 
the frame were sound and strong. This presaged that 
her Highness's happy youth was ended, and that disaster 
would soon come to her. 

Prince Friedrich and her Highness knew of these 
dismal sayings, and though they vowed them to be but 
impious, foolish talk, a little fear was mingled in their 
anxiety. 

One autumn evening her Highness sat before her 
'broidery-frame in her living-room in the English Palace. 
She was weary and oppressed, for she was approaching 
near to the time of her third confinement. Amalia Solms 
was patiently disentangling a silken skein which Curly, the 
spaniel, had played with. Prince Christel sat near, and on 
his knee lay Sir Walter Raleigh's " History of the World," 
but, though he turned the pages, he was not reading. 
There was too much a-happening in the world just then for 
thought to be given to the histories of bygone struggles. 
As usual the talk was of Bohemia and the revolt. 



120 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" And so Thurn is to return to Bohemia ! Good lack ! 
he hath gained little by wandering with his troops over 
half Austria. Better had he followed Bucquoi and finished 
his conquest," said her Highness musingly. 

" Thurn had counted on the Austrian Protestants rising 
in a body and marching with him against the Imperialists. 
Half-hearted loons ! But we can gauge their promises 
now," replied Christel. 

" Surely your Grace must yearn to be in the thick of the 
fight ? " queried the Solms in her nasal voice. 

" Gracious Amalia, I obey orders by staying here," he 
answered quietly, though his cheek flushed. 

" Oh, Amalia," cried Elizabeth Stuart impatiently, " it 
is not what you say which often angers me ; it is your 
attitude of mind, your constant judgment of what does 
not concern you which makes you so sorry a friend." 

" I regret, your Highness ," began the Solms in an 

offended tone. 

Elizabeth interrupted her hastily. " Oh, for the dear 
God's sake cease regretting ! You tread on people's toes 
and think you have eased their bruise by your regrets, 
but the toes ache for all your ' Ach ! pardons ! ' " Elizabeth 
said half angrily, half laughingly. 

" Really, your Highness, I do not comprehend ," 

began the Solms again. 

" Ah, my dear, and that which we do not comprehend 
in such things no angel of God can teach us, methinks," 
broke in her Highness ; " now, dear Amalia, go to my other 
ladies. I will call you anon — an I need you." The offended 
damsel retired. 

" The Countess Amalia means I should be with Mans- 
feld," said Christel, " and, sweet cousin, God knows I wish 
I were." 

" If you went now it would show the whole world how 
deeply implicated we are in the Bohemian revolt," she 
answered. " Nay, we will all fight, if Dohna returns out 
of England with good news of my father's intentions." 

They fell to talking of the English mission. Dohna had 
been despatched to Whitehall to ascertain whether King 



THE GREAT WAR'S PRELUDE 121 

James intended to abide by bis compact witb tbe Princes 
of tbe Union, and to contribute troops and monies in tbe 
event of open bostilities between tbe Catbolic and Pro- 
testant parties. As usual James procrastinated. In spite 
of bis promises be was unwilling to commit bimself, for 
be feared to spoil tbe cbances of tbe Spanisb alliance for 
tbe Prince of Wales, if be openly espoused tbe Protestant 
cause. In tbe face of tbe violent opposition of tbe Puritans, 
and indeed of all England, to tbe Spanisb matcb, James 
clung to tbe idea. Partly tbe Infanta's dowry allured 
bim ; partly be regarded tbe House of Hapsburg as tbe 
most distinguisbed and inagnificent in Europe, and it 
flattered bis vanity to mate bis son witb a Hapsburg 
princess. Also be was tbe playtbing of tbat astute 
diplomatist, tbe Spanisb ambassador, Gondomar, wbo 
knew tbat Protestant Europe stood waiting for England's 
weigbt to be tbrown into tbe political scales, and tbat 
wbile James besitated, tbougb tbe balance migbt oscillate, 
tbe actual overturning from peace to war would be averted. 
Meanwbile Spain, Austria, and Bavaria grew daily stronger 
and more prepared for war. It may be imagined Dobna 
bad no easy task, and be wrote in despair tbat be could 
get no answer from James. His bands were tied, for as 
yet be durst make but scant mention of Prince Friedricb's 
dreams of tbe Bobemian crown, and tbus wben be ap- 
proacbed James or Buckingbam witb bis question of wbat 
England would do, be was easily silenced by tbe statement 
tbat tbere was, and would be, no war. Wby sbould tbere 
be ? Wbat sbould bring war about ? 

For tbe nonce, even among tbe Heidelberg statesmen, 
tbe Bobemian project was not openly mentioned, tbougb 
tbe subject was tbe ordinary gossip of all tbe Courts and 
towns of Europe. Even ber Higbness and Cbristel did 
not speak of it ; in fact, it seemed to be but a far-off eventu- 
ality to tbem. Tbey discussed Dobna's mission and tbe 
likelibood of tbe Spanisb marriage ; and wbile tbey spoke 
Cbristel's deft fingers were busy witb a pencil, drawing 
tbe pattern of Elizabetb's wide, puffed sleeve on tbe margin 
of a page of " Tbe History of tbe World." Her Higbness 



122 THE WINTER QUEEN 

broke off in tlie political discussion with an exclama- 
tion: 

" Christel, you wicked one ! " slie cried, " you spoil the 
book my father sent me out of England. See now ! my 
sleeve portrayed opposite the solemn recital of Hannibal's 
wars ! " ^ 

She drew the book towards her as he held it out laugh- 
ing. " Really, Christel ! " she said merrily, " think of my 
father's ire an he knew ! " 

" Ah ! cousin, even the hem of your sleeve is dearer to 
me than all the wisdom in the ' History of the World,' " 
he said. 

" Christel, you are a foolish dear one," she answered, 
smiling. 

At this moment a page appeared in the doorway. " His 
Highness bids me inform you, madame, that a deputation 
from Bohemia has arrived, and that his Highness will be 
occupied with State affairs till late this night, and begs 
you to hold him excused from attending upon you this 
evening." The boy delivered his message, bowed, and 
retired. 

" State affairs," said her Highness. " Ah, well ! God 
grant they may bring us good some day." 

Silence fell between Elizabeth and Christel. In the 
courtyard the clock struck the hour heavily. 

" It grows late," her Highness said. " Friedrich and his 
Bohemians will consult till midnight. Good night, dear 
Christel." She pushed away her embroidery frame and 
rose. " Draw back the curtain, cousin, and see if it rains." 

As she spoke hurried footsteps rang out on the marble 
floor of the corridor. The door was flung open and Prince 
Friedrich burst into the room. 

" It has come at last ! A definite offer ! " he cried breath- 

1 In the British Museum there is a copy of Sir Walter Raleigh's " History 
of the World " which belonged to Elizabeth Stuart. On the margin of page 
417, opposite to the recital of Hannibal's wars, is a faint drawing of a 
woman's arm and hand. The sleeve matches, in all particulars, that in 
Mierevelt's picture of the Queen of Bohemia. This book was left at Prague 
by the Queen, and was brought to England in 1682 by a Jesuit priest, as 
is set forth on the flyleaf in a Latin inscription. 



THE GREAT WAR'S PRELUDE 123 

lessly. His cheeks were flushed and his brown eyes glowed 
with excitement. 

" What has come ? Who offers ? " began her Highness 
in surprise. 

" The offer of the Bohemian throne ! " he answered im- 
patiently. " They have elected me — in secret still, but 
they have decided to elect me ! Queen of my heart, how 
sweet to crown thee queen in the sight of all men ! No 
longer * Goody Palsgrave,' as your mother said ! " He was 
very young and winning in his boyish enthusiasm. The 
sombre influence of Calvinism, the shadow which in- 
trigue and anxiety had cast over him for long months 
seemed to have fallen from his soul, and he was only the 
proud lover, eager, yearning to proclaim his lady a queen. 
Elizabeth stood silent for an instant. 

" Care you not for a throne, dearling ? " Prince Friedrich 
said. The flush faded from his weak, sensitive face, and 
the radiance of his eyes waned. As usual with him it 
needed but a look or a word to dash his exultation to 
hesitancy and despondence. 

" It is not settled yet — I fear there is desperate 
risk — perchance I ought to refuse," he said slowly. 
Elizabeth's eyes flashed and she drew herself to her full 
height. 

" He who has wed a king's daughter must have courage 
to climb the steps of a throne however slippery they may 
be ! " she said haughtily. Once more Friedrich's enthusi- 
asm flamed. 

" You are right, and it shall ne'er be said that I feared 
kingship ! " he cried. " I vow to accept the crown of 
Bohemia ! " 

Christel had stood silent and embarrassed while these 
words passed between his cousins ; he now moved to the 
window, remembering Elizabeth's request that he should 
see if it rained. He drew back the heavy curtain. Flood- 
like a strange white glare lit the room, making the candle- 
flames seem like tiny pinnacles of yellow light. Both Eliza- 
beth and Friedrich turned in surprise towards the window. 
There was something ghastly in the sudden white light. It 



124 THE WINTER QUEEN 

blanclied Elizabetli's cheeks to deathlmess, and Prince 
Friedrich's face seemed like a yellow, waxen mask. 

" What is it, Christel ? " cried her Highness. " What is 
this flare ? " Christel opened the casement and leaned out. 
A discordance of sound came through the open window : 
cries and hoarse shouting, the frantic ringing of bells, and 
over all the long-drawn moan of a rising tempest. A gust 
of wind swept through the casement and abased the candle 
wicks to shuddering back-bent sheets of flame, and then 
extinguishing them, left the room lit only by the lurid glare 
from without. Christel clung to the casement frame, en- 
deavouring to pull the window shut, but the wind tore it 
from his grasp and dashed it back against the palace wall. 
The second door of her Highness's room was thrown open, 
and her affrighted ladies hurried in. 

" Madame ! oh, madame ! it is the end of the world ! " 
wailed Amalia Solms. 

" Be silent ! " commanded her Highness sharply. Chris- 
tel now succeeded in closing the casement, and the gale, 
with its accompaniment of panic sounds thus shut out, 
smote but faintly on the hearing. 

" Is there a conflagration in the town ? " asked Prince 
Friedrich. But none could answer him. Now Count 
Schomberg stood on the threshold. His face was grave 
and white. 

" Your Highness," he said earnestly, " there is tumult 
in the town. A monstrous luminary hath appeared in 
the sky ; it is like a giant finger of flame pointing at the 
castle. The people are crying out that it is God's scourge 
stick sent to warn us of Almighty wrath and vengeance. 
The people believe it is in punishment of your friendli- 
ness with the Bohemian rebels. Thousands of men have 
forced their way across the outer bridge ; I do not know 
whether they found the gate open, or whether the sentries 
in their panic let them in." 

Prince Friedrich, as usual, stood irresolute. His whole 
being was like a tarred beacon, which needs the spark from 
another's fire to kindle the dormant flame of courage and 
activity. 



THE GEE AT WAR'S PRELUDE 125 

" What can be done ? Where is Scultetus ? " he said 
weakly. Some one hurried away to fetch the preacher. 

And now, even through the closed windows, and louder 
than the yell of the wind, came the steady roar of many 
voices and the tramp of thousands of feet. 

Old Anhalt pushed his way through the group of 
wailing women in the doorway. 

" The townsfolk are in revolt," he cried ; " they are 
clamouring at the inner gates. I have ordered the guard 
to fire on them if they do not disperse." 

" In revolt ? My Heidelbergers ! It is incredible ! " 
said Friedrich. 

" Revolt ! " cried Elizabeth ; " they are mad with fear ! 
Open the gates — let them in — let us show them that 
whatever befalls we are with them ! You, my lord," she 
added, turning to Friedrich, "you go and speak with 
them." 

At this moment Scultetus appeared on the scene. 
Prince Friedrich caught him by the arm. 

" Will you speak to the citizens ? I know not what 
to say," he said. 

"Nor I, your Highness — they are riotous loons," the 
Calvinist answered. Elizabeth Stuart flung up her hands. 

" The Lord have mercy upon you ! " she cried angrily. 
" Must you all hesitate until a real revolt is upon us ? 
Tell the people that it is our will to share their fate 
whatever it may be ! Tell them that this strange star 
is another moon sent to guide our feet unto peace — 
through warfare into peace ! Tell them anything you 
like, but tell them something ! They will believe you — 
only do not stand there doing nothing ! " 

" Yes, yes ! Master Scultetus, you hear ? Her High- 
ness is right — you must calm them — they are good 
people ! " said Prince Friedrich hurriedly. " Open the 
gates ! His reverence will speak with the citizens ! " 

" Summon them to the chapel ! God's minister must 
speak to his flock from the pulpit," said Scultetus. 

The gates were opened, and the mob poured across the 



126 THE WINTER QUEEN 

inner drawbridge, where Prince Christel, Count Schom- 
berg, and the other gentlemen shouted to them that 
Master Scultetus awaited them in the chapel, and that 
he would tell them what they craved to know. 

It was a strange scene enough. The lurid glare in the 
sky lit the world to a horrible false daylight. The mass 
of terror-stricken burghers swayed and surged in the large 
courtyard in silence now. Those who were in the front 
of the crowd jostled each other frantically, as though their 
only chance of salvation lay hidden in the small chapel. 
From below in the town came the ringing of bells and 
the clamour of a fear-ridden multitude ; while from the 
wild animals' cages in the disused moat came the roar of 
the lions, roused from their sleep to fury and alarm by 
the unnatural light. And over all was the long-drawn 
wail of the wind — that wind which rushed beneath a 
clear and cloudless sky. 

In the chapel the Calvinist preacher poured forth a 
torrent of words. He affirmed the new luminary to be 
in very truth the rod of Almighty wrath threatening the 
oppressors of Christ's elect. It was a portent of coming 
vengeance on the tyrant who trampled on the children 
of God in Bohemia. An ominous murmur greeted the 
mention of Bohemia. 

" Why should we suffer for the sake of the Bohemians?" 
cried an aged citizen. 

" What has Bohemia to do with us ? " muttered others. 
" We will have no more to do with rebels." The flood 
of words rose steadily to a hoarse groan of menace ; gather- 
ing force like an advancing wave, it broke into a fierce 
roar. " We want peace — our rightful peace — here. We 
will have nought to do with Bohemia. Down with the 
instigator of war ! Death to the preacher of destruction ! 
Down with Scultetus, who has brought God's vengeance 
upon us ! " The words were drowned in cries and groans ; 
already rough hands were laid upon the pulpit wherein 
Scultetus stood. Several men clambered up and threat- 
ened the preacher with uplifted fists. " Mercy ! " cried 
Scultetus, and raised his arm to ward off the blows. 



THE GREAT WAR'S PRELUDE 127 

" Hold ! " called a clear voice from the royal gallery. 
" Hold, my friends ! Hearken to me ! " Many in the 
crowd turned. 

" Silence ! our Prince will speak with us," these said. 
Those in the foremost ranks of the mob paid no heed ; but 
gradually, after repeated cries of " Silence ! " the uproar 
abated and a measure of quiet was restored. 

Prince Friedrich stood in the gallery and faced his 
people. At sight of him a change took place in the 
crowd's attitude. Personal love and loyalty, the memories 
of a lifetime bound the people to their prince. He stood 
there with his delicate face flushed, his eyes aglow. Even 
in the livid light which poured in through the chapel win- 
dows he looked a splendid and noble prince, well fitted 
to claim the love of his people. Her Highness Elizabeth 
stood beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder, and it 
was as though her touch awakened strength and purpose 
in his soul. To do him justice, too, he never lacked in 
courage, and now he did not quail before his angry 
subjects. 

" Hold ! " he cried again. " Cowards ! Would you lay 
hands on a defenceless man ? If you have ought to 
complain of, I am here to answer you ! " He paused, and 
a murmur ran through the groups of burghers. 

" We want peace. Palsgrave," said one man, stepping 
forward and speaking up towards the gallery. " God has 
sent the sign of His wrath to Heidelberg this night ! We 
first saw the trailing moon in the sky after the Bohemian 
messengers rode through the town to the castle. That 
is proof that it is God's warning! We will have no 
more to do with revolt and bloodshed." 

" And so you raise revolt here against me ? Since when 
do my people dare to govern me ? " asked Friedrich sternly. 
" What know you of the councils of princes ? " 

" We want peace and security here in Heidelberg," the 
spokesman answered. " We have given gold to yonder 
preacher for the Bohemians. We will give no more ! 
Rebellion is sinful ! " 

" Would you hang back, you, men of the Reformed 



128 THE WINTER QUEEN 

Faitli, when I call on you in the name of God ? Bohemia 
and the Faith will be crushed by Romish tyranny if we do 
not aid ! Think you that the oppressor's sword will be 
sheathed in Bohemian blood ? Nay ! it will be turned 
upon you — upon our land ! Trust me, my Heidelbergers, 
I will guard your peace, but I will never forsake the cause 
of our oppressed brethren in Bohemia ! " cried the Pals- 
grave. The burghers whispered together. Another citizen, 
a substantial, soberly clad personage, stepped forward and 
addressed the prince. 

" We love you well, Palsgrave Friedrich, you and your 
dear lady ; but we love our homes and our safety first. 
God's menace hath rushed into the sky, and we dare not 
disobey. We adjure you to turn away from the battle- 
makers, we implore you to shelter us from warfare ! " he 
said gravely. Prince Friedrich faltered, the exaltation 
faded from his face, and for a moment he bowed his head. 
Then Elizabeth Stuart's touch came on his shoulder again, 
and he turned to her. There was a dawning scorn in her 
eyes as she saw him waver, and like a spurred horse he 
returned to the charge. 

" What ! " he cried vehemently, " fear you to fight for 
your Faith ? Would you tamely submit to Romish idola- 
try ? And what fear you ? You, who are tutored men, 
trusted citizens, you tremble before a new star ! — you, who 
would laugh at your own children did they fear the dark, 
you lose your wits in terror before a heavenly light ! Ah ! 
you might be craven idolaters, Popish peasants, believing 
fond tales ! " The Calvinistic burghers fell silent. They 
were abashed by his scornful words. 

" He speaks truth," some muttered. Now Scultetus 
lifted his voice in loud and fervent prayer. Turning to the 
sullen mob, he exhorted them in grave words to courage 
and good sense ; and, as he spoke, the habit of belief in 
their pastor returned to the burghers, and they grew calm. 

" Go in peace," Scultetus ended solemnly, " go, believing 
that God hath not sent this new light as a menace to you, 
His children, but as an earnest of His goodwill. And shall 
it not be as with Joshua of old when the Lord bid the sun 



THE GREAT WAR'S PRELUDE 129 

to stand still upon Gibeon, and the moon in the valley of 
Ajalon, while the Amorites were destroyed by God's 
warriors ? For verily, as the Lord fought for Israel, so He 
will fight for His children now. And He hath sent a new 
sun to guide us, and yet you are afraid ! Go in peace, and 
believe this thing unto which I have testified, for I know 
that the Lord fighteth for Israel." 

Slowly the mob filed out of the chapel. Like chidden 
children they took their way homewards, and speaking in 
hushed voices they repeated the preacher's words. 

Silence fell over Heidelberg ; the ringing of bells and 
the hurried tramp of feet ceased, and safe in their gabled 
dwellings the burghers were at rest ; while without the 
wild wind moaned, and over city and castle, over hill and 
vale, was shed the wan light of the great comet. 



CHAPTEE VIII 

DEPARTURE 
« O ! Weh ! Die Pfalz ziehet gen Boheim ! " 

DURING- three months the comet glowered over 
Heidelberg. Gradually the fear of the unknown 
wore off, and the citizens, safe in their comfortable 
dwellings, forgot that outside their curtained casements 
the lurid glare lit the hours of night to an eerie false day- 
light. Those who were abroad after set of sun gazed up 
at the trailing monster without fear, believing it to be, 
as Master Scultetus had affirmed, a heavenly beacon to 
lighten the godly. 

In December her Highness Elizabeth had given birth 
to her third child, her eldest daughter, Elizabeth, and once 
more there were rejoicings and wassail at Heidelberg. 
From Bohemia came but little news ; the rigours of 
winter had put an end to active hostilities, and though 
Mansfeld, Thurn, Hohenlohe, and Schlick, with the 
insurgent forces, still confronted Bucquoi and the Imperi- 
alists, their real foes were famine and disease, for in the 
icebound land both armies were perforce inactive. 

All Europe talked of Friedrich as a probable king of 
Bohemia, and the Princes of the Union in lengthy de- 
spatches discussed the matter, and gave advice, sometimes 
for, sometimes against, the crown's acceptance should it 
be offered. But none knew that the Bohemians had 
actually proffered the throne to Prince Friedrich ; none 
knew that he had vowed to be the Bohemians' king and 
the champion of Protestantism. 

Meanwhile Prince Friedrich waited. His envoy, Count 
Dohna, wrote out of England that King James would give 
no definite answer. His Majesty was occupied in weighing 
the question as to whether the Bohemians had the right to 

130 



DEPARTURE 131 

elect a king ; when he had settled that point he would 
decide as to the right of an Electoral Prince of the Empire 
to accept a foreign crown ; when he had decided this he 
would deliberate as to if he approved of his son-in-law 
taking so momentous a step. 

Towards the end of January the comet disappeared as 
suddenly as it had come. It had foretold nothing, since 
nothing had occurred ; so they said in Heidelberg. Then 
in March came the news that her Highness's mother, Anne 
of Denmark, was dead, and popular rumour proclaimed the 
comet to have foretold the queen's death. Elizabeth 
Stuart wept the loss of her vain, foolish, kindly mother. 
The mighty hand of Death smoothed away the remem- 
brance of Danish Anne's petulance, and of her unwise 
speeches which had so often disturbed the peace of White- 
hall. The Court of Heidelberg donned the garments of 
woe, and her Highness, according to the German mode, re- 
tired to her own apartments, and lived mewed up like a nun 
to prove to the indifferent that she mourned her mother. 

" A mark of respect, dear heart ; and it is our custom 
here," said Friedrich pompously. 

" Part of the world's nonsense," her Highness answered 
wearily; "I would I could mourn my mother in my own way." 

"The world would think you lacked in love to your 
mother," he said. And he was not wrong, for all the 
world and even grave historians have recounted in horrified 
words how King James only wore black for a few days and 
thus could not have greatly cared for his queen. 

So Elizabeth was cloistered in her own apartments, and 
added dulness and inaction to the sadness of her heart. 
Then came the news that the Emperor Matthias was no 
more, and Europe woke to the fact that a crisis was 
imminent. After the secret negotiations which had been 
afoot for months anent the conditions of Friedrich's ac- 
ceptance of the Bohemian crown, it was mighty awkward 
for him to be called upon to elect as emperor the very 
man Avhom he was scheming to have deposed as king of 
Bohemia ; for directly Matthias had breathed his last, 
Ferdinand of Styria, the crowned king of Bohemia, laid 



132 THE WINTER QUEEN 

claim to the empire, and the Electors were notified that 
the election would take place at Frankfurt in August. 

The spring brought good news from Bohemia. Silesia, 
Moravia, and Lusatia were sending troops to join the in- 
surgents. Thus all the provinces north of the Danube 
were ranged against the House of Hapsburg. In June 
tidings came that Thurn, at the head of ten thousand 
men, beleagured Vienna. On the other hand it was known 
that from Flanders, Lorraine, and the Spanish Netherlands 
reinforcements were hastening to Ferdinand of Styria's 
aid ; and that Philip III. of Spain had despatched troops 
which, along with Milanese and Neapolitan forces, were 
marching through the Tyrol into Austria. 

Towards the middle of June came the unwelcome in- 
telligence of Mansfeld's crushing defeat by Bucquoi at 
Zablat ; of Thurn's consequent recall to Bohemia ; and of 
the mutinous spirit in the Bohemian army. The dishonesty 
of the Bohemian generals, and, indeed, of all the officers, 
had raised a revolt among the men-at-arms. The Council 
at Prague voted inadequate sums for the troops' main- 
tenance, but even these monies found their way chiefly 
into the paymasters' pockets, and the troopers were in rags 
and near starved. A starving, unpaid, mutinous army is 
a cruel guest to any country, and bitter was the lament of 
both townsfolk and peasants who were robbed and their 
homesteads pillaged by the desperate, famine-stricken 
soldiery. 

When this heavy news was brought to Heidelberg, Fried- 
rich and his councillors were filled with consternation and 
dismay, but their gloom was lessened by a despatch which 
stated that Bethlem Gabor, Prince of Transylvania, had at 
length openly espoused the Protestant cause, and was send- 
ing a large force to join the insurgent army. The same 
messenger brought information of the action of the dila- 
tory Prague councillors, who had at length voted the 
much-needed supplies for the army. 

When the appointed time of the Imperial election drew 
near, John George of Saxony paid Heidelberg a visit. He 
announced loudly that he intended to vote for Ferdinand 



DEPARTURE 133 

of Styria at Frankfurt, and strongly advised Prince Fried- 
rich to do likewise. As lie received evasive answers in the 
council chamber, he made another attack when her High- 
ness was present at the banquet. 

" God knows, Palsgrave," he burst out as he set down 
a beaker of wine which he had drained to the dregs ; " God 
knows ! you might indeed be thinking of taking the 
Bohemian crown ! Eh ! what ? " 

" Nay, nay — I am not yet decided," answered Friedrich, 
who could not lie easily. 

" Decided ? " roared his bucolic Highness of Saxony ; " it 
cannot be a hard question ! You are asked to make a fool 
of yourself, and you say : ' Many thanks, no ! ' that is all ! 
Come to Frankfurt with me to-morrow and vote for friend 
Ferdinand, and put all silly notions from thine head like 
a wise lad ! " Prince Friedrich flushed angrily. It was 
insufferable to him that nearly all the Princes of the 
Union spoke to him and treated him like a boy. 

" I have sent my envoy, Count Solms, to Frankfurt," he 
answered sullenly ; " I shall not go myself." 

" You must go ! " returned the Saxon roughly. " You 
forget that by inheritance you are the first Elector. You 
cannot shirk duty thus." 

" I do not shirk duty, your Highness," said Friedrich, 
" my envoy has my instructions." Elizabeth interposed 
with a query as to if the wine were to John George's 
liking, and the dangerous topic was avoided. His High- 
ness of Saxony went to bed happy and drunk, and the 
next morning rode away to Frankfurt. 

Solms had a hard task, for the Electors were unanimous 
in their choice of Ferdinand of Styria, who promised free- 
dom of worship to the Protestants ; and Solms, furnished 
with insufficient instructions, also fearing to precipitate 
affairs if he refused the Palatine's vote, was obliged to 
acquiesce. So Ferdinand was elected Emperor in due form, 
and with the vote of Prince Friedrich's accredited envoy. 

Solms rode to Heidelberg with the news, which was 
received with consternation by Friedrich, with fury by 
old Anhalt, and with fear by Master Scultetus. Three 



134 THE WINTER QUEEN 

days afterwards a deputation arrived from Prague telling 
how, on the same day as the election in Frankfurt, the 
Bohemian states had solemnly deposed Ferdinand and 
proclaimed Prince Friedrich King of Bohemia. 

And now for the first time, in the leaders of this 
Bohemian deputation, the Lady Elizabeth was confronted 
with specimens of her future subjects. Count Thurn 
was a handsome man of polished manners, familiar with 
courtly ways, and he spoke both French and German, 
having been educated in Vienna ; but Count Schlick was 
only master of a few words of German, and he had all the 
hostility of manner which gives the Czech a bad name ; 
an hostility which is, in truth, only pride and shyness, and 
which a soft word or a smile can convert into an impulsive 
and grateful tenderness. Prince Friedrich, thoroughly 
German, stiff and formal at the wrong moment, was help- 
less before this class of being ; but Elizabeth, spontaneous 
and warm-hearted, always forgetting formality, immedi- 
ately won the old man's heart. He bent the knee before 
her, and she gave him both her strong, white hands. 

" Tell him," she said to Thurn, " that those who give a 
crown do not kneel. Rather should we kneel to those 
who make us rulers of so brave a country as Bohemia." 
Count Thurn translated her words. 

" Oppression and sadness have made us all poets in 
Bohemia, and a poet must ever kneel at the feet of beauty 
and purity," said old Schlick. 

" Tell him that I pray God we may give happiness to 
the Bohemians, but they must remain poets in spite of 
joy," she said to Thurn when he had translated Schlick's 
words. So the Bohemians departed, and took a very 
rhapsody to their country, as to how fair and sweet a lady 
would be their queen. And their king ? Just what they 
needed, so they affirmed: a handsome, courteous youth who 
would be easily guided. In fact they wanted a figurehead, 
a stick to hang a crown on. They did not seek a man to 
govern them, for that they opined they could do well enough 
for themselves ; but they wanted a name to conjure with, 
and they deemed that Friedrich Prince Palatine and his 



DEPAETURE 135 

fair Pearl of Loveliness would be a most suitable name 
king and queen. 

For two hundred years there had existed in Bohemia a 
traditional love of England. Already early in the fifteenth 
century the well-beloved Bohemian patriot and reformer, 
Master John Hus, had spoken of " blessed England," Hus 
disclaimed the heretical opinions of Wycliffe ; still the 
English reformer's pure life and magnificent denunciation 
of the immorality of the priesthood had inspired Hus with 
deep sympathy and had led him to study Wycliffe's works, 
a study wherefore Hus paid a heavy enough price. Later 
in Bohemia's troublous history the oppressed Protestants 
had looked with yearning eyes to England, where their 
Faith reigned omnipotent. And thus the English Princess, 
Elizabeth Stuart, seemed to the Bohemians to be the 
queen chosen of God for them, and the thought of her 
banished any reluctance which they felt to elect a German 
prince for their king ; for the hatred of the Germans still 
smouldered in every Bohemian breast, a hatred fully 
justified by the Bohemian history of three hundred 
years. 

The Heidelbergers saw the prospective elevation of their 
prince to a throne with mingled feelings. It was an 
honour, and they were proud for their well-beloved rulers, 
and yet they dreaded the loss of a Court in Heidelberg. As 
the days wore on this feeling deepened, and general de- 
pression and anxiety reigned in the city, whereas at the 
castle all was joy and elation, and a grand festival was 
ordered for the night before their new Majesties' departure. 
The morning brought the Electress-Dowager to Heidel- 
berg. For many weeks she had written letters of warning 
to her son, and now she had arrived, a Cassandra presaging 
woe. She summoned Friedrich and Elizabeth to her 
chamber, and after dismissing her attendants, she asked 
sternly if their Highnesses' departure for Bohemia was 
indeed fixed for the morrow. 

" But, madame, you have been informed of the matter 
from the outset," cried Friedrich impatiently. 

" I have ever counselled you to reject the crown, and 



136 THE WINTER QUEEN 

now I lay a mother's commands upon you to do so ere it 
is too late," she returned. 

" In all respect, madame, I cannot content you in this 
matter," he said, " and methinks a mother's commands 
can only be laid on an unripe youth." 

" You forget, madame mere, that Friedrich is a grown 
man ! " cried her Highness. 

" And you forget, madame ma fille, that in Germany we 
are so unmodish as to keep parental respect, aye, and 
authority, all the days of our life," the old Electress 
retorted sharply. 

" It is an absurd tyranny, madame ; the tyranny of old 
age over youth breeds ugly thoughts ! We must be free 
to follow our destiny once we are grown men and women," 
said Elizabeth hotly. 

" To your undoing, madame ? " queried Juliane in a grim 
tone. 

She spoke long and gravely of the risks attendant upon 
grasping a crown, of the jealousy which each Protestant 
prince would harbour secretly against a member of the 
Union who should rise to regal honours, of the instability 
of the Bohemians, of the awe-inspiring power of Austria. 
She warned Friedrich that in case of failure as Bohemian 
king he would lose his Electorate and even his hereditary 
Palatinate lands. From warning and exhortation Juliane 
passed to supplication, but, as Friedrich told her, it was 
too late. 

" How can I go back from my written and spoken word, 
madame ma mere ? " he urged. 

" You will forfeit all for the sake of a short span of 
kingship," the old Electress said in a sad voice. 

" Courage, madame," cried her Highness gaily. " Believe 
me, I had liefer eat sauerkraut with a king than fare 
sumptuously with a Palsgrave ! " 

" Madame ma fille, that is an ugly saying," Juliane 
answered angrily. 

" Ah ! dear madame, I do not mean it in such dire 
earnest ! But I do mean that we dare not waver now — 
dare not for our honour's sake," said Elizabeth gravely. 



DEPARTURE 137 

" We must follow destiny be it good or evil ; but a brave 
heart is a mighty alchemist, that I can warrant." 

It was a dismal day. The wind drove the rain into 
a vast dim curtain over the valley, hiding the distant 
plain and blurring the outline of the Heiligenberg. 
Towards evening the storm relented, and a pale gleam 
of sunshine came through the clouds. 

In the banqueting hall the King Elect sat at dinner 
with his guests. All the nobles of the Palatinate were 
assembled at this farewell feast, and their ladies would 
repair later to the Hall of Mirrors to bid adieu and God- 
speed to the Pfalzgrafin Elizabeth. It would not be a 
mournful farewell, for it was known that their new Majes- 
ties fully intended to spend a portion of each year in their 
castle of Heidelberg ; and further, that both the King and 
the Queen had issued a cordial invitation to the noble 
youths and maidens of the Palatinate to grace the Court at 
Prague. So there was merriment in the banqueting hall, 
and in the Hall of Mirrors there was to be a grand ball. 

Elizabeth and her Highness Juliane did not attend the 
banquet, they would only appear at the ball. There were 
many preparations for the journey on the morrow. " Tell 
your guests that your goodwife is busy making her bundle 
to carry with her into Bohemia," Elizabeth had said gaily. 

There was one sad little face in Heidelberg Castle that 
day, little Karl Ludwig's. For Karlutz, as his father called 
him, was deemed too young to be taken to Prague, and he 
and his baby sister Elizabeth were to be left at Franken- 
thal in the care of the Electress Juliane. Prince Henry 
Friedrich, having reached the mature age of five years, 
was to accompany his parents, and he was wild with joy 
at the prospect of a journey. 

Elizabeth sat in her withdrawing room, little Karlutz 
leaned against her knee, while the tiny Princess Elizabeth 
lay sleeping in an oaken cradle at her side. Prince Henry 
was rushing about playing at stag-hunting. Elizabeth 
Stuart's eyes rested on him fondly ; this, her first-born, was 
the child of her heart. 

The boy paused in his noisy game. 



138 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" I'mgoing to Prague, and you'll stay here alone, brother," 
he said proudly, giving little Karlutz a push. The child 
raised a whimpering cry. He was old enough to under- 
stand that every one was going away somewhere and he 
was to be left behind. 

" Poor sweeting," said Elizabeth softly to the crying child 
— " poor forsaken sweeting." She lifted Karlutz to her 
knee. Now it seemed to her that she could not leave her 
children. 

" I'm going to Prague to be a king and shoot stags ! " 
announced Prince Henry, " and Karlutz will stay here and 
be eaten by wolves ! " he added. At this the little fellow's 
whimpering rose to a yell, for though he was far too young 
to understand, yet he felt that something was going to 
happen, and his mother's pitying tone told him it was 
something terrible. Baby Elizabeth awoke screaming. 

" What bad bairns ! " cried Elizabeth Stuart. " As Mis- 
tress Margaret Hay my nurse used to say to me : ' Ye 
are a bad bairn and good for nothing.' " She rose and 
summoned her ladies from the antechamber. 

" Take these noisy ones," she commanded, " I shall go 
into the plaisance with Henry for a while till it is time to 
dress for the ball." She passed down the shallow-stepped 
stairway and out on to the terrace near the Dicke Thurm. 
For a moment she gazed over the parapet across the town 
roofs to the peaceful valley. The sun was setting in a fiery 
ball, and already the mist rose thickly from the drenched 
fields beyond the city. Elizabeth drew Prince Henry's 
little cloak more closely round him. 

" Come, my Hal," she said, " we will go and say farewell 
to the gardens and the orchard." 

She pushed open the postern Avhich led to her own 
garden. Autumn's rude touch had weighed heavy on the 
flowers, and they lay blackened and beaten to the wet earth 
by the fierce rain. Summer was gone and the glory of the 
world seemed forgotten. Elizabeth Stuart felt a sense of 
dreariness and foreboding creep over her. Somehow she 
wished that she could have bidden farewell to her beloved 
garden when the flowers were in their splendour of spring 



DEPARTURE 139 

or summer. She walked down the pathway to the gate 
which Friedrich had caused to be built for her in a single 
night. She told Hal the story. 

" Did my father build it with his own hands ? " the little 
fellow asked. 

"Nay, he caused others to build it," she answered, 
laughing. 

" I would have built it for you myself, mother," he said 
proudly. " It is nothing to make other people build — I 
would build for myself ! " 

How like Hal was to his dead namesake, her dear 
brother Henry, she thought ; the same confident earnest- 
ness, the same eager spirit, the wish to work honestly. 
And this boy would one day be King of Bohemia — this 
boy might fulfil the promise of true kingship by right of 
noble purpose, which Death had wrested from that other 
Hal. She shuddered — perchance Death would ravish this 
Hal from her too before there was time for the fulfilment of 
so fair a promise ? What had come to her ? Why did such 
drear sentiments assail her, she asked herself impatiently ? 
She laid her hand upon the stonework of the archway, 
and promised herself that next year, when the world was 
full of summer again, and kingship assured, she would 
return to this archway and lay her hand here once more. 

" Come, Hal," she called. She took her way round the 
Dicke Thurm and down the terraced gardens to the rosery. 
Silently she bid farewell to the rose trees. 

" You see, Hal, we must say adieu to our dear garden," 
she said, " only adieu till next year. When the roses 
bloom again we will come home out of Bohemia to pluck 
the flowers." 

She wandered on through the rosery and beside the 
flowering parterres, past the orangery and the water gar- 
dens, where Neptune, surrounded by mermaids, poured 
from trident and uplifted shells cascades of clear water, 
and dolphins spouted streams from their gaping mouths 
into the stone tanks. She came to her orchard, which 
stretched down in a gentle slope towards the river Neckar. 
Prince Hal ran on before her, and she followed at a leisurely 



140 THE WINTER QUEEN 

pace, for her thoughts were busy with the future. Of a 
sudden the little fellow gave a cry. 

" Look, mother ! " he called. " Look ! the ugly crea- 
tures ! " He fled back to his mother. 

" Mother — mother ! they are coming up the hill ! " he 
said, near sobbing with terror. 

" Nay, Hal ! What is it ? " she said soothingly. "Was 
it a frog or a slug ? Dear heart, you must not be afraid 
of any animal. Ah ! " She finished with an excla- 
mation of surprise, for from out the edge of the long grass 
there peered at her a strange, horrid little head, and with 
a jerking movement an animal came towards her. She 
stood rooted to the spot, for it seemed as if the whole of 
the orchard slope had become alive with uncouth, black, 
sleek forms advancing steadily. 

The light of the short autumn day was failing, and a 
white mist rose from the low ground wherefrom the crea- 
tures came. 

" Hush, Hal," she said tremulously, " they are only 
the Neckar newts, harmless little animals." But the 
boy clung to her, and clambered up into her arms. 

" Mother — mother ! they are going to run over me with 
their cold, clammy feet. Oh ! oh ! " he wailed. She held 
him fast, though his weight was much for her. 

" They cannot touch you, dearling," she whispered, but 
she felt that she too was trembling ; she felt that if one of 
those uncouth, slimy creatures were to touch her — to walk 
over her foot — she must scream aloud. 

The newts advanced from out the long grass down the 
slope as in an army. She could see the vivid orange stripe 
on each swiftly turning flat head ; she could see their cran- 
ing necks, their plump, brown bodies, and their webbed feet. 
A sense of physical sickness seized her. The animals had 
reached the pathway where she stood; some had jerked 
past her and were trailing up the bank behind her — but 
there seemed no end of them. They were all around 
her. . . . 

" Ah ! " she cried aloud. One of the creatures had 
touched her foot. Should she fly ? She made a step 



DEPARTURE 141 

forward, and again her shoe touched a plump, sleek, slimy 
body. She closed her eyes. Courage ! They were only 
river animals. But an army of them here in her orchard ? 

" Mother — oh ! you are letting me fall," the child wailed. 
Her pride came to her rescue ; she would not behave like 
a timorous waiting-maid. Fighting back that awful feel- 
ing of sickened disgust which rose in her throat, she 
strained the little fellow to her breast and stood like some 
figure of defiance and despair, but with closed eyes and 
beating heart. It seemed to her as if the creatures' 
webbed feet touched her constantly, as if their fat, dank 
bodies pressed around her. She fancied that a fetid, un- 
wholesome smell filled her nostrils. 

At length she opened her eyes. The animals were 
gone ; and the melancholy tranquillity of the orchard 
seemed to rebuke her for her fear. Hal still clung round 
her neck, and now she felt the weight of the well-grown 
five-year-old boy to be intolerable. She tried to set him 
down, but he clutched wildly at her, crying : 

" They will walk over me. Mother — mother ! keep 
me safe ! " 

" They are gone, Hal," she said, " you need not fear them 
now." It seemed to her that she had dreamed — those 
strange intruders in the well-known peaceful orchard 
could have been but figments of her fancy. She stooped 
and set Hal on his feet. 

" Be a cavalier, Hal of mine," she said. " Do not act 
like a silly maiden." She noticed that the pathway was 
traced with dozens of imprints where the webbed feet had 
squelched into the soft red mud, and she saw that the 
creature which had passed over her foot had left a smudge 
of whitish slime on her shoe. Once more disgust seized 
her, and she turned sick and faint. 

" Come, Hal," she said, and gripping the little fellow's 
hand firmly in her own she hurried away. She met a 
gardener in the rosery. 

" Have you ever seen hundreds of Neckar newts in the 
orchard ? " she asked. 

" I've seen a few of the nasty efts sometimes, your 



142 THE WINTER QUEEN 

Highness," said the man. " We say in the country here 
that when they march in an army they go to a funeral, 
or to bid farewell to a wanderer who will never return to 
this land; but I've never seen them marching, your 
Highness." He looked at Elizabeth inquisitively. 

" They are harmless animals enough," she returned 
carelessly; but a sense of desolation and despair crept 
over her. 

" Good night ! " she said to the man kindly. 

" Good night, and God bring your Highness safe back to 
us out of Bohemia," the gardener answered deferentially. 

" God grant it ! " she said under her breath as she passed 
on towards the castle. 

On the morning of their Majesties' departure leaden 
clouds lowered over the Heiligenberg as if in sullen anger, 
and the valley towards Ladenburg was shut out by a 
dense wall of mist. In the city the rain beat fiercely on 
the red roofs and splashed unceasingly over the rough, 
uneven cobblestones of the narrow streets. Towards eight 
of the clock the bells of the Heilig-Geist Kirche rang out, 
and the citizens gathered quickly on the market-place 
near the church. 

It was a black-robed crowd, for the burghers had donned 
their sombre winter mantles to shield them from the 
downpour, and in the chill, grey light of the morning 
it seemed to be a funeral company gathered there. The 
dark forms issued from the narrow streets and joined 
their fellow- citizens in the Marktplatz, where the men 
spoke together in hushed voices, and the women wept. 
Truly, there was sorrow in Heidelberg that day. 

The crowd streamed into the church. In the lofty, 
pillared naves the darkness was almost of night. No light 
was upon the bare altar, before which stood the long, plain 
table where the Calvinists partook gloomily of the feast 
of remembrance, the Lord's Supper. On the pulpit two 
lights flickered. For some time the black-gowned con- 
gregation stood waiting, and it seemed as though they 
were expecting the advent of some funeral train, as if 



DEPAKTURE 143 

eacli moment the awesome, heavy, careful tread of coffin- 
bearers must break the silence. Overhead the bell still 
rang, and its tolling seemed to be a knell for the departed. 

With a swift step a young man entered the church, a 
slender youth with large, melancholy dark eyes, and a 
pointed beard. On the ruff of fine white linen his brown 
hair fell in glossy ringlets, one of which was plaited into 
a pearl earring which fell from one ear only. His cloak, 
tunic, and trunk hose were of black velvet, and as he 
moved the cloak fell back, showing upon his breast a 
flashing jewel hanging on a broad blue ribbon from 
beneath the rufp. He was followed by some half-dozen 
attendants soberly clad like himself. These formed a 
group at the base of the nave, while Friedrich the Pals- 
grave passed on and took his place in a chair before the 
pulpit. From the sacristy, whence in olden times had 
come forth priests in the splendour of rich vestments, 
now came a small, grave-faced man in black raiment, who 
took his place in the pulpit. It was Master Scultetus, 
and he spoke his text in a harsh voice : " Behold My 
servant whom I uphold ; Mine elect in whom My soul 
delighteth; I have put My spirit upon him, he shall 
bring forth judgment to the Gentiles." Solemnly the 
preacher recounted the choosing of Friedrich of the 
Palatinate by the Bohemians, how these Lutherans had 
been led by the hand of God to elect a king of the pure 
faith of Calvin. He spoke of the splendour of Friedrich's 
mission, yet he warned the congregation that as the 
knights of old had perished in the crusades against the 
infidels, so might the champion of Protestantism be called 
upon to lay down his life in this crusade against idolatry 
and oppression. 

" Bid him farewell — ^your Palsgrave," the preacher cried, 
" for verily, ye may see him no more ! And yet such is 
the justice of God that ye may look forward confidently 
to a glad greeting of your prince. For God shall lead 
him back to you in peace after the hosts of the Philistines 
and their Hapsburg Goliath have fallen before the sling 
of this new David." Triumphantly the preacher's voice 



144 THE WINTER QUEEN 

echoed through the vaulted aisles of the Heilig-Geist 
church, and yet that verbiage of biblical language so dear to 
the hearts of the Calvinists failed for once to stir the con- 
gregation. They were men of peace after all, and though 
they loved to thunder forth texts and to garnish their 
talk with Old Testament allusions, it was quite another 
thing to see their well-beloved Palsgrave go forth to 
battle with the overwhelming forces of Hapsburg, and to 
lose the remunerative presence of a permanent Court at 
Heidelberg. Friedrich sat motionless, his melancholy eyes 
fixed and thoughtful, his cheeks pale with emotion ; a poor, 
weak, willing David, all unfit to contend with any Goliath ! 

At length the preacher ceased speaking, and for a 
moment the sound of the raindrops beating against the 
windows usurped the place of the voice of prayer. In 
spite of Master Scultetus's vehemence the dismal baldness 
of the Calvinistic form of worship was flat and uninspir- 
ing. How different had an organ pealed, had a thousand 
tapers lit the ancient church to beauty, had vestments 
and glowing altar-cloths given warmth and colour to the 
grey stone of that Gothic pile ! If, instead of the heavy, 
rank odour of wet garments, the fragrance of incense had 
filled the air ! Verily, the " harlot of Rome " knew how 
to thrill souls, knew it better than that stern woman of 
unalluring virtue, the Calvinistic matron. 

Carefully Scultetus blew out the two candles on the 
pulpit and descended the steps into the church. His 
tread creaked discordantly as he hurried into the sacristy. 
The King Elect rose and passed down the central nave 
to the porch. 

" Farewell, my friends ! " he said huskily to those who 
had followed him from the church. " Farewell ! God 
grant you prosperity. Farewell ! Farewell ! " he repeated, 
as they crowded round him. 

A venerable burgher, the aghd Master-Builder Jordan, 
broke out in loud weeping. 

" Palsgrave, Palsgrave ! do not leave us," he sobbed. 
" 'Tis a long road to Bohemia, and we shall weary without 
you and your dear lady." 



DEPARTURE 145 

As if the old man's words had unlocked a flood- 
gate of speech, cries and supplications burst forth. 
The citizens pressed round the King Elect, crying out : 
" Stay with us, your Highness ! Oh ! go not to Bohemia. 
Rule us in peace and plenty. Do not tempt the wrath of 
God by travellings. Alas ! alas ! if you go we shall never 
see you more. Never more ! Alas ! never more ! " 

Friedrich stood irresolute. Their emotion caught him, 
and he wept with them. " I will return to you — I go but 
for a little time," he stammered. Now the crowd which 
had stood beyond the church doors swept in, Women 
threw themselves upon their knees at his feet. " Do not 
leave us ! " they wailed. " Stay with us or we are lost ! 
If you go we shall never see you more ! " 

A madness seemed to have seized the orderly Heidel- 
bergers, a very frenzy of grief and apprehension. They 
clutched his mantle, they kissed its hem. A weeping 
woman flung her arms around his knees, crying : " Alas ! 
alas ! Prince, you go to destruction ! " Friedrich raised her. 

" I go to do mj'- duty," he said gently. 

" That duty is a vain thing which leads a prince to 
forsake his people ! " a voice called in the crowd. At this 
moment Scultetus, Camerarius the State secretary, Count 
Schomberg, and the other gentlemen shouldered their 
way through the crowd to the King's side. They tore 
his cloak from out the people's grasp, and hurried him 
away across the market-place. But the sound of the 
people's wailing followed him as he passed up the steep 
hill to the castle. 

Here all was hurry, and it was a relief to Friedrich to 
be in the commonplace of life. It seemed to him that 
he had escaped from some irksome dream, as if that 
scene in the Heilig-Geist Kirche had been unreal, some 
doleful history that had been told to him. He welcomed 
the signs of approaching travel which he saw in the 
courtyard. Huge wooden cases stood about, and into 
these the serving-men were piling up velvet bed-hang- 
ings and silken coverlets, or packages of linen. There a 
stout carpenter was fitting bars around her Highness's 

K 



146 THE WINTER QUEEN 

carven chairs, half-a-dozen henchmen staggered across 
the yard bearing chests of silver, and others laboured 
beneath loads of priceless tapestries. It was all so com- 
fortably familiar to the King ! How often had he seen 
such preparations for travel ! Without all this baggage 
no prince, or even wealthy traveller, could journey, for 
who could trust to the sorry accommodation of roadside 
hostelries ? So beds and chairs, tapestries, linen, silver, 
and even the kitchen utensils were carried in waggons, 
or on sumpter-horses behind the coaches of the great. 

On this occasion much was to be conveyed to Prague. 
Although it was known that the Hradcany Palace con- 
tained the pictures and statues, ivories and carvings 
which Rudolf, the Emperor-antiquary, had treasured there, 
who could say if her new Majesty of Bohemia would find 
those luxuries of life which were necessary to her ? 
Already several well-guarded companies of sumptermen 
with laden horses had been despatched into Bohemia ; 
but the country was full of skirmishing bands from 
Bucquoi's army near Budweis ; and worse still, it was 
whispered, with famished, marauding deserters from the 
Bohemian forces, and it was feared that the King's 
baggage would never reach Prague. Though Mansfeld 
held the town of Pilsen, since his defeat at Zablat he 
sulked behind the ramparts, and afforded but scant aid 
to any traveller. And so, for the most part, the King 
and Queen's baggage was to follow them, well guarded 
like themselves. Their route lay through Ansbach to 
Amberg, the last Palatine town before the Bohemian 
frontier. Here it was designed to make a long halt, for 
the quaint mediaeval city with the mighty walls, the 
ninety-seven watch-towers, and the ancient gabled castle 
on the banks of the river Vils, had ever been a favourite' 
abode of her Highness Elizabeth and the Palsgrave. 

It was cheering to Friedrich to reflect that he but 
journeyed at first to well-known Amberg ; somehow he 
felt that he could not have faced his entry into Bohemia 
with the wailing of his faithful Heidelbergers still ring- 
ing in his ears. He hurried through the courtyard to 



DEPARTURE 147 

the English Palace. In the " supper parlour " a repast 
was set out, and in the embrasure of the latticed window 
her Highness sat waiting. Around her were her ladies, 
Amalia Solms and the four English damsels who had 
journeyed to Heidelberg to learn the duties of maids of 
honour to the new Queen of Bohemia. There were 
Mistress Bridget Clovelly and Mistress Joan Stanley, 
my Lady Phyllis Devereux, who had been Elizabeth 
Stuart's playmate in the happy days at Combe, and 
Mistress Alison Hay, cousin to my Lord Viscount Don- 
caster, newly created Earl of Carlisle, the Ambassador. 
A right merry company, but decorous and graceful in 
their merriment, as befitted ladies of such gentle birth. 
They gathered round the breakfast- table, which, in the 
English fashion, was decked with snowy napery. Her 
Highness Elizabeth would have none of the German 
modes — no polished oaken board or gorgeous velvet 
coverings ; she loved her table to be spread with fair 
white linen, and would only permit the serving-men to 
clear away the tablecloth before the fruit was served at 
dinner or at supper time. 

Her Highness Louise Juliane entered, and Elizabeth 
Stuart and the ladies bent before her in deep courtesies, 
then the company partook of their morning meal. And 
a copious refection it was : there were " siipplein " broths 
of mixed meat and cream, there were pasties and game, 
" hahnlein " roast (small chickens), and " hahnlein " baked, 
wine possets strongly spiced, ale and sack, and a vast 
assortment of cakes and baked sweetmeats. 

The merriment soon banished the shadow from the 
King's brow. He jested with the maids of honour, teased 
my Lady Phyllis Devereux about the stories her Highness 
had told of their childish pranks at Combe, rallied Mistress 
Alison Hay about barbarous Scotland, asked her if she 
would make her entry into Prague like her cousin my 
Lord of Carlisle did at Paris, with pearls sewn so loosely on 
her raiment that they fell off for the populace to gather up. 

During this young gaiety Louise Juliane sat silent. She 
was oppressed by doleful forebodings, and, God knows, the 



148 THE WINTER QUEEN 

jangle of unshared merriment, the laughter wherein we do 
not join, is torture to an aching heart. The repast ended, 
and King Friedrich called for a goblet of wine. 

" Madame ma m^re," he cried, rising to his feet, " I 
would fain pledge you in a cup of sack ! " He lifted the 
silver goblet high, and, half jesting, he cried: 

" To our next merry meeting, madame mere ! " Then 
seeing her troubled face he whispered to her in German : 
" Miitterlein, sei nit traurig, lid) Miltterlein ! " 

Louise Juliane rose, and she, too, lifted her goblet high. 
" I pledge you, sweet son — " she said, but the tears 
choked her and she could not drink. 

Elizabeth Stuart rose hastily- "We must not tarry 
longer ! " she cried. " It is time we were on the road if 
we would sleep in Ansbach this night." 

Her ladies brought her brown velvet travelling mantle 
and the high-crowned felt hat with the long feather. 
After she had donned these, she stood silent, gazing round 
the supper parlour. A wave of sadness swept over her. 
She had passed so many peaceful hours here with Fried- 
rich, Christel, and her ladies, and she had learned to love 
the oak-panelled room. Ah , how fanciful she was growing ! 
She would see this homely parlour a thousand times 
again ? Was she not returning to Heidelberg next 
year ? Yes, after the formal banquets, after the busi- 
ness of regal pomp at Prague, she would come home to 
Heidelberg and rest before she resumed the splendour of 
a queen. 

" Farewell, madame mere," she said gaily. " Ah, be 
not so sad, madame ! I am, as usual, of my wild humour 
to be merry, and you must not grieve ; we shall be here 
again before to-morrow year has waned ! " She embraced 
Louise Juliane fondly, and, calling her ladies, took her way 
down the winding stair laughing and talking. In the 
ante-hall she found Karlutz, and the baby Elizabeth asleep 
in her nurse's arms. 

" See, ma mere," she called to Juliane, " I leave you 
two brave little consolers who, I warrant, will plague you 
mightily. But, madame, I shall rob you of these naughty 



DEPARTURE 149 

ones right swiftly. I must have them in Prague to show 
the Bohemians what goodly bairns their King hath." 

She bent and kissed Karlutz. " Be a brave little cava- 
lier," she whispered. Gently she laid her hand on the 
sleeping baby. " I will not waken her, sweet mite," she 
said, and passed out of the stately portal to the courtyard 
where the coach stood, with Prince Hal already ensconced 
in the cushioned seat. Old Curly, the spaniel, had 
followed her Highness, and now he tried to jump into 
the coach. 

" Not this time, my Curly, no ! But next year I will 
fetch you away too," she said. The faithful dog looked 
at her with despairing, questioning eyes. 

" Poor Curly ! " she said, and bent to stroke him. 
" No, good friend, I cannot take you." A tear stole down 
her Highness's cheek, the others understood, but this faith- 
ful friend, she thought, only knew that he was forsaken. 
She caught up her monkey — a descendant and namesake 
of the first Jacko — ^and with the little brown creature in 
her arms, she entered the coach. 

" Why may not Curly come too ? " asked Prince Hal 
indignantly. 

" He is so old and frail, dearling, he will be safest here," 
she said. 

" Poor Curly, we shall see him never more," the little 
boy said, and fell to weeping bitterly. 

" Next year, Hal, next year," she answered, but her 
heart misgave her. Why did every one say "Nevermore?" 
What foolishness ! To-morrow year, or perhaps with 
the third bloom of the roses, she would be back in 
Heidelberg. 

The heavy coaches moved on. The King Elect and 
his suite rode beside Elizabeth Stuart's carosse, despite 
the beating rain. Turning in his saddle, Friedrich called 
merrily : " Farewell till next year ! " 

But for answer Louise Juliane threw up her arms with 
a despairing cry : " Ah, woe to me ! There rideth the 
Palatine to doom ! " 



CHAPTEE IX 

HUMILIATION 

" The dreamy air is full and overflows 
With tender memories of the summertide." 

— Longfellow. 

A FTER the tedious two days of travel through the 
/\ rain-drenched country from Heidelberg, Elizabeth 
-^ -^ Stuart was right happy to rest at Am berg. She 
loved the quiet old city, which lay as though cloistered 
by the grim mediaeval walls, guarded by ninety-seven 
watch-towers. The castle was small and homely compared 
with the splendour of Heidelberg, but there was something 
infinitely peaceful in that old-world garden, which sloped 
down to the river and the ancient bridge, whose two 
rounded arches, with their reflection on the still surface 
of the water, formed the " town spectacles," as the citizens 
said. It was a prosperous city, for the country round was 
rich in iron ; and the townsfolk, albeit of simple, unpre- 
tentious habits, were industrious, orderly, and contented. 
Perhaps during these quiet days at Amberg it was the 
last time in her life that Elizabeth Stuart felt that sense 
of guarded peace, of prosperous security. 

Early one morning she sallied forth to the market-place 
with Amalia Solms and Prince Hal. It was her whim to 
play at the burgher's wife for once. She had discarded 
her fardingale and had donned a black velvet cloak and a 
tall, black felt hat with a sweeping plume, and thus attired 
she wandered down the narrow streets. A chill morning 
haze still veiled the city after the many days of rain, but 
a pale gleam of sun touched the red roofs and lit the 
streets to a dewy, glistening beauty. In the market-place, 
before the Rathaus, the peasants gathered round their 
stalls, which were heaped up with a wealth of vegetables, 



HUMILIATION 151 

with fresh, brown-shelled eggs, and creamy yellow butter. 
The merchants' wives, followed by serving-wenches, basket 
on arm, moved about choosing their daily provisions. The 
worthy matrons wore their Amberg costume : neat buckled 
shoes, full skirts, bodices of plain dark cloth, with folded 
cross-overs of dainty white muslin, and the finely -woven, 
gilt filet caps, accurate copies of those their grandmothers 
and great-gran'dams had worn. For the world's fancies 
and fashions changed but slowly in those days, and in 
peaceful Amberg love and life passed on to death softly 
and at leisure, leaving the picture of the city's life un- 
altered, save that other faces looked out from the little 
gilded caps ; other hearts beat beneath the goffered muslin 
cross-overs. Monotony perchance ; yet to the wanderer 
there is sweetness in one draught of that cup of peace 
which monotony brews. True, for the daily drink this 
sweetness is cloying, but to the wanderer it is delicious, 
in some pause of journeying, to quaff this slow-brewed 
draught. And to Elizabeth Stuart it seemed very sweet 
and wholesome. She wandered on among the market- 
booths, smiling at the surprise and admiration which she 
read on the people's faces, for they soon recognised her, 
and the whisper went round the market-place that the 
Pfalzgrafin was among them. 

There clattered across the cobble-stoned square a train 
of gallants. Elizabeth Stuart drew back into the shelter 
of the Rathaus portal. Her dream of leisured, common- 
place life was shattered by the sight of the riders, for 
among them she recognised Count Christopher Dohna, 
Friedrich's envoy to England, and she saw that his face 
was overshadowed with anxiety. She had long dreaded 
his return; for, knowing her father's character, she had 
always feared that James's habitual procrastination was 
a cloak for his wily, ungenerous policy, and that in the 
end he would refuse his aid to the Protestant Princes. 

With a heavy heart she retraced her steps to the castle. 
It was her destiny, she told herself sadly, that whenever 
she felt at peace the shadow of State affairs should fall 
upon her, and yet she chid herself, for she knew that he 



152 THE WINTER QUEEN 

who plays on the great stage of life must sacrifice leisure, 
security, and peace. She smiled when she thought of 
herself living her life in the guarded monotony of a city 
like Amberg. No ! her place was in the highway of life. 
Better, she thought, to live each hour in poignant ecstacy 
of endeavour, of action, even of tragedy, than to be lulled 
to the sleep of death through a lifetime of drowsy content. 

With head erect and proud step she passed through 
the autumn-ravaged garden to the castle. In the long, 
low, panelled parlour she found Friedrich, Count Solms, 
Camerarius the secretary. Master Scultetus, and Baron 
Christopher Dohna. The King Elect held a letter in his 
hand ; his expression was one of troubled perplexity. 

"News out of England, my Lord of Dohna?" asked 
Elizabeth cheerfully as she entered. " And no good news, 
as I see by your rueful looks ! " 

Dohna bent the knee before her. " Your Majesty," 
he said, " I am the bearer of no tidings, alack ! I have 
no definite answer from your royal father." Elizabeth 
Stuart laughed gaily. 

" Ah ! sir, let me tell you your own tidings, for a 
daughter's heart can hear a parent's words from afar ! 
My father says he must weigh the legal precedents of all 
history ere he can bid you call me queen ! My father 
commands us to wait, and " — again her eyes grew bright 
with laughter — " and we have not waited ! " Even Fried- 
rich smiled. 

" 'Tis mighty fine to jest, ma reine," he said, " but King 
James will never forgive that we have not waited for his 
answer." 

" Never is a long word," she answered lightly, " a word 
which lovers whisper, and angered parents thunder out. 
And time has a sponge wherewith he washes out the word ! 
But, sir," she turned to Dohna, " had the despatches 
anent our acceptance reached England ere you started ? " 

" Yes, madame," said Dohna, " but his Majesty com- 
plains that three days after you had sent despatches 
begging for his advice, the crown was accepted without 
waiting for his answer." 



HUMILIATION 153 

" But we had asked him before ! Alack ! who can 
wait upon the slow wisdom of a greybeard ? " cried the 
King Elect. 

" There is a proverb which I have had to hear from 
my father often : ' Wisdom and haste did ne'er go hand 
in hand,' " said Elizabeth, laughing. " But what does my 
father advise now ? " she added, 

" That your Majesties should wait until he lays the 
matter before Parliament. I am commissioned to pray 
you to wait," said Dohna. 

" We will wait in Prague, sir," she answered proudly. 

In truth, how could Prince Friedrich have waited 
longer ? Many months ago he had laid a clear statement 
of the facts before King James, and those events, which 
had taken place since this document had been drawn up, 
could but have added to the force of each argument which 
he had put forward. The Emperor Matthias' death had 
removed the monarch whom the Bohemians had freely 
accepted ; Ferdinand of Styria's election as king had been 
forced upon them, and they had deposed him in due 
form. That Ferdinand had been elected Emperor, even 
according to Friedrich's own vote, altered nothing in the 
invalidity of his claim to the Bohemian throne, for Bo- 
hemia was a separate and independent kingdom. Thus 
Friedrich argued, and thus had Dohna argued many times 
to King James. England was bound to assist her co- 
religionists in the event of war, bound in honour and by 
the solemn treaty with the Princes of the Protestant 
Union ; bound, too, by the ardent anti-popish feeling of 
the English people. Friedrich had asked for James' 
advice, but, as his father-in-law hesitated to give any 
answer, he was under no obligation to wait longer. He 
was not bound to wait for the English King's permission 
to accept the Bohemian crown ! This Camerarius set 
down in his delicate, scholarly handwriting, and Dohna 
affirmed it all once more to the King Elect, who needed 
the comfortable cordial of assurance to keep his resolution 
warm. 

In spite of the disturbing English news the days passed 



154 THE WINTER QUEEN 

right merrily in Ainberg. Dohna was a polished courtier, 
distinguished for his elegance and knowledge of courts ; 
and if he brought but scanty political tidings out of Eng- 
land, yet he had much to relate of the doings at White- 
hall. How the Court was more gross than ever since 
Anne of Denmark's death ; of how Buckingham ever 
grew more splendid, and that even if King James's affec- 
tion for him seemed to wane, yet was Buckingham sure 
of future power, for Prince Charles lavished on him an 
enthusiasm of almost brotherly love, Then, too, Dohna 
had tarried a day in Holland with Maurice of Orange, 
and he had a dozen histories of the doings at the Hague 
to recount. Chief among these were the scandalous tales 
told of Duke Christian of Brunswick, son of Elizabeth, 
sister to Anne of Denmark, and thus Elizabeth Stuart's 
close kinsman. 

" What is my cousin Duke Christian's appearance ?" she 
asked Dohna. Womanlike she wished an accurate de- 
scription of this " wicked monster," and, manlike, Dohna 
could but tell her that Duke Christian " looked well 
enough, a proper man if his ways were like his looks." 
For some half-year the Duke had been in Holland study- 
ing the science of war under Maurice of Orange, but it 
seemed as though the science of love and revelry was more 
to his taste. 

" They call him the mad Halberstadter among the 
people, as I hear, madame," said Dohna, " yet his madness 
is but the madness of very wild youth." 

" Why Halberstadter ? " she asked. 

" He is the lay bishop or administrator of the see of 
Halberstadt," Dohna told her. 

" A pretty bishop ! " she cried. " Nay, I hope I may 
ne'er set eyes on this fierce, evil cousin of mine. It is 
the more shame to him that, being nearly a pastor of 
God, he should do such fearsome deeds of lust. But tell 
me more of him, my Lord of Dohna," she added. 

They were dark histories that she heard : tales of mid- 
night revels, bf stormy scenes and nocturnal pranks 
played on peaceful burghers, and above all, the shattering 



HUMILIATION 155 

of marriage bliss, or dulness, by tbis reckless devil, tbe 
mad Halberstadter. Dohna smiled to bimself, for it 
diverted bim bugely to see tbat even tbe Pearl of Eng- 
land, tbe Princess Elizabetb of famed purity, was so eager 
to bear tbe stories of a young man's misdeeds. 

" But, sir," sbe cried at lengtb, " tbe man is a monster 
of sin ! " 

" Your majesty, c'est un cbarmeur de femmes ! " Dobna 
answered witb a smile. 

" I fear me sucb men are tbe devil's emissaries," sbe 
said, witb a sigb. 

Tbere were merry doings at Amberg during tbose days 
of tbeir Bobemian Majesties' sojourn : stag bunts in tbe 
forests near by, gallants riding tbrougb tbe quiet streets 
of tbe city, a stir and a burry in tbe market-place, dancing, 
music, and banqueting in tbe castle. In after times of 
bitter trouble tbe Ambergers looked back to tbese days as 
to tbe most splendid tbey bad ever known. 

On a golden autumn morning tbe King Elect rode west- 
ward from Amberg. It was as tbougb tbe dying year 
bad remembered ber spring rbapsody, and, after many 
days of tears, Dame Nature smiled once more as if 
in love witb tbe sun. Tbe woods exbaled a glorious 
fragrancy of eartb and moss, and tbe doomed leaves, 
clinging still to tbe brancbes, rustled for tbe last time in 
tbe gentle breeze. After tbe desolate days tbe wbole 
eartb seemed to exult in tbis sudden return of ligbt and 
bappiness, and Friedricb's soul was filled witb elation. 
Life and youtb pulsed in bis veins, and be felt bimself to 
be a man witb a splendid destiny. Tbere was no cloud 
on tbe borizon of bis mind. Tbis day be rode to Rotben- 
burg to receive tbe good wisbes of tbe Princes of tbe 
Union, to tell tbem tbat be, tbeir brotber in Faitb, went 
fortb to conquer tbe accursed oppressor — nay, tbat be 
bad already conquered since be was a king, and to bis 
standard all tbe Protestant nations were sending warriors. 
War tbere would be none ; be was freely elected by a free 
nation, and tbe Hapsburger would perforce bow before 



156 THE WINTER QUEEN 

the might of so potent a confederation. He pictured 
Europe as a peaceful Arcady. Gradually the ancient 
Harlot of Rome would forget her evil wiles and own her- 
self defeated by the fair purity, the sweet reasonableness, 
of that scatheless maiden, the New Faith ! Then, too, 
the Lutherans would voluntarily renounce their errors, 
and soon Europe would be as a great valley of peace 
where all men prayed alike, strove alike, loving brethren 
in Faith. And all this marvel would be accomplished 
through the divine mission of Friedrich, King of Bohemia, 
that Friedrich who would one day become Emperor of a 
holy Evangelical Empire. He saw himself a knightly 
king kneeling at the feet of his well-beloved lady, he saw 
himself reverently crowning her Queen, then Empress. 
He rode on as in a dream. 

Duke Christian of Anhalt and Master Scultetus had 
not accompanied the King Elect ; Friedrich had intimated 
that he would speak with the Princes of the Union with- 
out his usual advisers. He had to do with his peers ; he 
would answer to them alone. He feared old Anhalt's 
rude speeches, he did not desire quarrels, and he knew 
that Scultetus also was held in abhorrence by reason of 
his intolerance of Lutheranism. Thus Friedrich's retinue 
was composed of a handful of callow youths. Duke 
Magnus of Wirtemberg rode among them, and through 
his reverie Friedrich heard the sound of ever-recurrent 
laughter, for Duke Magnus was a " merry Andrew," never 
serious for a moment. 

" Magnus ! " called Friedrich, turning in his saddle, " I 
pray you exhaust your store of quips to-day, for when we 
enter Rothenburg I will have no fooling." 

" Jog-a-jog on the footpath way 
And merrily hent the stile-a ; 
A merry heart goes all the day, 
Your sad tires in a mile-a," 

sang Duke Magnus. " But I vow me, cousin, I will be as 
glum as Master Scultetus himself when we come to Rothen- 
burg! Yet, cousin, the merry monarchs are those the 



HUMILIATION 157 

people love. A king with a smile gains hearts, and 
hearts are useful friends," he said lightly. 

" Nay ! I will be no glum sovereign," said Friedrich 
joyously ; " life is too full of love to be doleful." 

They cantered on, laughing and talking like happy 
boys, and indeed what else was Friedrich with his twenty- 
three summers ? They rode through a smiling country, 
past many peaceful hamlets where the crooked white- 
washed walls of the peasants' dwellings were decorated by 
brown wood-beams criss-cross in haphazard, irregular 
lines ; then towards Niirnberg, where the broad fields 
stretched away to wooded hillocks ; and through fragrant 
forests, where the tall, straight trunks of the slender pine 
trees formed dim aisles as of some wondrous cathedral of 
Nature's building. 

Leaving Niirnberg, they travelled on until against the 
sky-line they sighted the pointed towers of Rothenburg. 
The dusk fell as they rode up the long, steep incline 
which leads from the plain to the city. Grim and im- 
pregnable the town-wall rose in their sight as they came 
near. At the Roderthurm they drew rein, and, having 
announced their names and qualities, were admitted 
through the triple gates to the city. The street lay 
deserted, save for a dozen grubby children and a few 
blear-eyed gaffers — old age and weak childhood, forsaken 
and neglected — while the more responsible members of 
the community gaped and stared before the houses, where 
the magnificent Princes of the Union were lodged. Thus 
the chief actor in the drama passed unnoticed to the house 
of Master George Nusch, the new burgomaster, who had 
prayed the champion of Protestantism to honour his poor 
dwelling-place. The worthy man received the King 
Elect Avith every mark of reverence, kneeled at his stirrup, 
and kissed the hem of his dusty riding-coat. 

" Nay, master ' " cried Friedrich, raising him, " I would 
not have you soil your lips with dust." 

" Your majesty, I would willingly drink a river of dust 
and blood could my draught empty the cup of tribula- 
tion which hath been held to the lips of those who but 



158 THE WINTER QUEEN 

thirsted for the pure water of the Faith," said Niisch 
solemnly. 

" Sir Burgomaster," replied Friedrich, with a touch of 
youthful grandiloquence, " it shall be my mission on earth 
to give the living stream of salvation, untainted by blood 
I pray, to my comrades of the Reformed Faith." 

At this moment a billet was handed to Friedrich. He 
noted that it bore the superscription : " To his Highness 
the Elector Palatine." It was a brief missive from the 
Duke of Wirtemberg craving immediate private speech 
with his friend and kinsman. Friedrich replied cour- 
teously, that he would speak with his Highness on the 
morrow, but that this evening, being greatly weary with 
travel, he prayed the Duke to hold him excused. For 
Friedrich desired no premature meetings with the Princes 
of the Union. He awaited his audience with his com- 
peers on the morrow in the Council Chamber of the 
Rathaus. 

The morning dawned ominous and clouded. Before 
nine of the clock the Princes of the Union were seen 
slowly proceeding to che Rathaus. There were his Grace 
of Wirtemberg, uncle to Duke Magnus ; the Dukes of 
Baden and Neuburg, his Highness of Ansbach, the Duke 
of Kulmbach, the Elector of Brandenburg, the Landgraf 
of Hesse, and the venerable representatives of the free 
towns of the Empire. The Elector of Saxony was there, 
and many other nobles of high name. Protestantism — 
Lutheran and Calvinistic — was fully represented, a grave 
and sober company of statesmen and patrician citizens. 

As the church clocks rang out the ninth hour the King 
Elect of Bohemia took his way from Master Nusch's 
dwelling in the Schmiedgasse to the Rathaus. A heavy 
silence brooded over the town, so that the peaceful splash- 
ing of the street fountain sounded almost noisy. On the 
market-place before the Rathaus were groups of peasant 
women, in their large, black ribbon head-dresses, their 
ample skirts of sombre cloth, gay embroidered aprons, 
white stockings, and buckled shoes. The men in their 
long, full-skirted, blue cloth coats, adorned with many 



HUMILIATION 159 

rows of silver buttons, with black leather breeches to the 
knee, white stockings, and, like their womenkind, shoes 
with broad silver buckles. A number of townsfolk were 
gathered there too — citizens' wives in their little caps 
of finely gilded fillet- work, in their full skirts of rich 
cloth, and girdles of silver, wherefrom hung the house- 
hold keys, and the little leather satchels wherein the 
Frau Sattlermeister, the Frau Fleischermeister, the Frau 
Schreinermeister carried their daily household money. 

King Friedrich walked swiftly and alone, his noble 
retinue following on foot a few paces back. In their 
wake was led the King's chestnut steed, with arched 
neck and small proud head, a mighty gelding of a 
Flemish stock, crossed with an Arab breed. This was 
'■' Hurry," the king's favourite horse. A feeble cheer 
went up as Friedrich passed, and high above the manly 
voices, came the women's shrill trebles calling : " Hail, 
King Friedrich ! " He smiled at them, this brown-eyed 
youth, to whom women always gave a kindliness. King 
of so little yet, save of women's friendship — friendship, 
not love ; yet debonnair and very bonny he looked 
in his rich brown coat — viol-brown as it was called, a 
colour much favoured by Elizabeth Stuart. He wore 
riding boots and gilded spurs, a sword clanked at his 
side, and on his head was a wide, brown felt hat, with a 
sweeping feather fastened by a jewelled buckle. Half 
the time the hat was in his hand as he answered to the 
plaudits of the crowd, answered with a smile. What 
had Magnus said ? "A king who can smile wins hearts, 
and hearts are right useful in the world's warfare." But 
no ! it could have been no shrewd teaching which in- 
spired Friedrich's smile that day ! He was truly uplifted, 
proud and glad, sure of his destiny, confident of himself. 
At that moment, surely a man for a queen to love. 
" Hail, King Friedrich ! Champion of the Faith ! " He 
strode up the shallow steps of the Rathaus and beneath 
the narrow portal, whence the stairway rose like the 
twisted leaf of some giant stone plant. He paused in 
surprise, for he was suddenly confronted by the flare of 



160 THE WINTER QUEEN 

torches. The Burgomaster, mindful of the darkness of 
the autumn morning, had posted torch-bearers on the 
staircase. King Friedrich stepped forward and, bending, 
peered up through the narrow well of the stairway. He 
started, for distinct in the light of the topmost torch, he 
saw the eagle of Empire emblazoned on the ceiling. By- 
some trick of vision this eagle, although in reality quite 
small, is made to appear large and overpowering, and it 
had been the master-builder, Leonhard Weidmann's boast, 
that by his art be bad magnified Empire in the sight of 
all men. And King Friedrich, seeing this, thought that 
an omen of his own destiny was revealed to him. Al- 
ready he deemed that the divine right of kings had 
given him a clearer vision of the things of the future. 
Yes, the unknown days held an Empire for him he 
thought — a great reformed Empire. He strode on with 
head erect and sure tread. 

In the ante-hall a group of young esquires, of burghers' 
sons, and underling clerks, bowed deeply as he passed. 
An usher lifted a heavy crimson curtain, and Friedrich, 
King Elect of Bohemia, stood on the threshold of the 
Council Chamber. 

It was dark in the lofty hall, for the Avindows faced 
due westward, and thus lay in shadow. Only through 
the one tall, south window came a cold light, which 
fell straight on the ancient carven stone judgment-chair, 
whence, during three hundred years, the judges had 
spoken when death had been a criminal's doom. It was 
bitter cold in the vast stone hall. On the long, narrow 
centre-table four waxen candles shed a pale light on the 
faces of the assembled members of the Union, who sat at 
the table, while behind them stood a few clerks and 
notaries. 

The princes rose as Friedrich entered. He bowed to 
each according to precedency, and they responded cour- 
teously, if coldly. For a moment Friedrich stood silently 
at the head of the Council board. His gaze wandered 
round the gloomy Council Chamber. Everything was 
indistinct save the judgment-chair at the end of the hall. 



HUMII^IATION 161 

and, showing wan in the candle-light, the faces of those 
who sat at the table. There was something funereal and 
ghastly in the silence and in the bearing of those solemn 
men. The table, with its covering of sombre cloth, looked 
like a long, black coffin ; and the flickering light of those 
four waxen tapers seemed like the candles round a bier. 

Friedrich shivered a little. It was as though the 
gloom laid a tangible touch on his heart. But his elation 
was proof against the grim impression, and in an unfal- 
tering voice he invoked the blessing of God upon the 
deliberations of the Council. Solemnly the princes re- 
sponded " Amen ! " and their voices re-echoed hollow in 
the stone hall. 

Then King Friedrich began the speech which he had 
rehearsed so often in his mind. 

" My Lords of the Evangelical Union," he said, " I come 
in person to inform you that after due consideration and 
earnest prayer I have accepted the crown of Bohemia. Of 
the undoubted right of the Bohemians to elect their King 
I need not remind you, for the conditions are as familiar 
to you as to me. The House of Hapsburg has no heredi- 
tary rights, for, indeed, the very formula used for several 
generations in the legal documents : ' King by acceptance 
of Bohemia,' denotes that, an a nation can accept a king, 
they are obviously free to reject one who is not to their 
liking. Further, my Lords, no quibbling legal document, 
no question of precedent, can stand before the needs 
of a noble and oppressed country. When cruelty and 
tyranny have ground a nation to the dust, then is revolt 
a fair and proper thing. Yet there is a greater need than 
life, a more urgent call than even sorrow and pain can 
utter, and that is the salvation of the soul to all eternity. 
Whosoever wavers before the task of saving his soul at the 
expense of defying an usurping tyrant, that man is accursed. 
And the brethren of our Faith in Bohemia must either 
abjure their religion to embrace the tenets of Antichrist, 
or they must throw off the yoke of the Romish Haps- 
burger. This the Bohemians have done bravely and 
openly, and they have chosen me as their King. My 



162 THE WINTER QUEEN 

Lords, I pray you give me your good wishes for the 
accomplishment of what is my mission here on earth : to 
rule my new kingdom to the glory of God and the up- 
rooting of the foul tyrant, the servant of the Scarlet 
Woman of Rome ! " 

He paused with flushed cheeks and glowing eyes. There 
was silence in the hall. Friedrich looked from one to the 
other, but the princes avoided his glance. A little throb 
of disappointment ran through the buoyancy of his mood. 

" My Lords," he said, and his voice wavered, " I await 
your answer." 

Now the princes looked at one another, and Friedrich 
saw how a half smile dawned on the faces of some — an 
indulgent smile like we give to the harmless nonsense 
spoken by a child. The Duke of Kulmbach bent and 
whispered to the Elector of Brandenburg, then he turned 
to Friedrich. 

" We knew that your Highness had listened to the 
rebels' talk," he said, not unkindly, " but we deemed it im- 
probable that your advisers would permit you to harbour 
for an instant so mad a scheme. Believe me, Palsgrave, 
this is the wild dream of youth." 

" The dream of youth is nobler than the faint-hearted 
wisdom of old age ! " cried Friedrich hotly. 

" Your dream of youth is treason against your over-lord, 
sir ! " growled the Elector of Saxony. 

" I have no over-lord save God and my own conscience," 
retorted the King Elect. 

" This is rebel's talk," interposed the Duke of Wirtemberg. 

" Yes, we are rebels against tyranny ! Yes, we are rebels 
against an usurper who would take our faith from us ! " 
cried Friedrich passionately. " My Lords, my Lords, you 
speak as though all this were news to you. Have 
you not, each and all, advised with me for the sake of our 
brethren in Faith ? And now you speak as though this 
were some wild dream — some sudden scheme — I do not 
comprehend. My kinsman of Neuburg, what do these 
gentlemen mean ? " he finished weakly, appealingly. 

" You have gone too far, my Lord," said Neuburg coldly. 



HUMILIATION 163 

" Too far ? How can a man go too far who aims at a 
goal and wins ? " Friedricli cried, with a return of confi- 
dence. " I, the Head of this Union, have undertaken a 
larger task, yet I am still your acknowledged leader, and 
I command you to join with me in my mission against 
tyranny and oppression ! For your honours' sake, you 
cannot desert the standard of Protestantism ! The great 
ordeal has come ! We have done with polemics, done 
with intrigue, and in the sight of all men we now raise 
the banner of God against the hosts of Antichrist. My 
Lords, there is some misunderstanding between us ! You 
are my friends, and my father's friends ; we are brethren 
in Faith. In the name of Christ I conjure you to give 
me your friendship and the assurance that, an I have need 
of your aid, you will not hang back." 

A rough laugh greeted this passionate speech. " Our 
aid to keep you King," jeered the Duke of Saxony. 

" By my troth, by all I love and reverence, that is a 
lie ! " cried Friedrich wildly. " I go to Bohemia as the 
chosen of God to guard His Church from harm ! " 

" Chosen of a few rebels ! Take care your Highness is 
not flung into a dung-heap in Bohemia," said Saxony 
gruffly. Many laughed. 

" My Lords, you treat me mighty scurvily," Friedrich 
said, with dignity. " My Lords, have you at least no good 
words to give me ? " 

" Listen, your Highness," said the Duke of Kulmbach 
gravely. " We have one good word to give you : Go back 
home to Heidelberg, and live your life in peace and plenty. 
Your young enthusiasm is no use in statescraft. Go home. 
Palsgrave Friedrich, and forget this madness." 

" Never ! " cried Friedrich ; " I am pledged to Bohemia. 
Would you have me play the coward — have me turn back 
like a white-livered dastard ? " 

" I would have you packed off to bed like a froward 
urchin, which, upon mine honour, is all you are ! " roared 
the Duke of Saxony. 

The rough jest pleased the assembly, and a storm 
of pent-up merriment burst forth ; the princes in loud 



164 THE WINTER QUEEN 

laughter, and the clerks and notaries in that sniggering 
cachinnation wherewith the obsequious greet the witti- 
cisms of their superiors. 

Friedrich stood for a moment with blanched lips and 
haggard face. It was like some sudden darkening of the 
world before his eyes, as if some one had struck him a 
blow on the temple which made his senses reel. What 
had happened ? What had he done ? The reality of 
life seemed gone ; he was in an evil dream. 

He essayed to speak ; but though his lips formed words, 
they were drowned by the laughter. With a gesture of 
despair he turned away and dashed out of the council 
chamber. 

In the ante-hall he had to shoulder his way through 
the crowd, which moved hastily aside, while a murmur 
went up : " The King." Friedrich stumbled down the 
winding stair like a drunken man. Outside a feeble cheer 
greeted him : " Hail, Palsgrave ! Hail, King Friedrich ! " 
Must all the world mock him ? he thought wildly. 

His horse stood at the Rathaus steps, but Duke Magnus 
and the other gentlemen were at the far side of the market- 
place laughing and talking with a group of peasant maidens. 

Friedrich muttered something to the esquire who held 
the horse. 

" Your Majesty's pardon — I did not hear ! " began the 
youth. 

The King pushed him roughly aside, flung himself 
upon his horse, and, without a word to the astonished 
esquire, galloped away as though pursued by some dread 
enemy. And, in truth, he was hunted by the direst foe of 
youth's enthusiasm : the harsh ridicule of cold experience. 



CHAPTEE X 

KING FRIEDRICH'S RIDE 

" Fellow-creature I am ; fellow-servant of God : 
Can man fathom God's dealings with us ? 
The wide gulf that parts us may yet be no wider 
Than that which parts you from some being more blest, 
And there may be more links 'twixt the horse and his rider 
Than ever your shallow philosophy guess'd ! " 

— A. Lindsay Gordon. 

THE King galloped wildly onwards down the narrow 
street to the Roderthor. Faster — he would go 
faster ! He spurred his horse cruelly. The gates 
stood wide open, and the sentries, leaning lazily against the 
wall, were laughing and jesting. As the King dashed past 
them a loud guffaw met his hearing. Probably they laughed 
at some witless, lewd saying, but to Friedrich it seemed that 
their ridicule was directed at him. They stared as he 
galloped by, but, although the Palsgrave was well known 
to them, they failed to recognise him in the rider with the 
wide felt-hat pulled down over the brows, and it was only 
after he had passed on his headlong course that they 
realised that the fugitive had worn the broad, blue ribbon 
on his breast, that ribbon of the English Garter which 
the Palsgrave always bore, some said because, being Eng- 
land's order, it seemed to him to be another love-token of 
Elizabeth Stuart. 

The thud of the horse's hoofs sounded as the rumble of 
distant thunder when Friedrich galloped over the wooden 
boards of the outer drawbridge. Like a madman he 
dashed down the dusty Niirnberg road, which wound like 
a long, white, sinuous snake between the broad, russet 
fields of stubble, whence the waving yellow wheat had 
been reaped. On the horizon stretched the blue-black 
line of the distant pine-woods. 

165 



166 THE WINTER QUEEN 

Under the desolate, slate-coloured sky tlie solitary rider 
sped onwards. On — on — bringing the agony of human 
thought into the deserted country scene of silent fields 
and dreaming marsh lands. A peewit rose out of a 
clump of rushes, a covey of partridges flew with a burr 
of wings and shrill, tweaking cries from some quiet 
hiding-place of deep grasses ; but otherwise the stillness 
was only broken by the thud of the hurrying hoofs of 
the Flemish gelding, ridden by that despairing, black- 
cloaked rider. 

There was madness and despair in King Friedrich's 
heart : it seemed to him that all the joy, all the sanity of 
life had been taken from him ; as if some awful flood of 
hopeless misery had surged over him. In his ears the 
jeering words and laughter in the Rothenburg Rathaus 
rang on — he saw the hostile, mocking faces. His soul 
was divided by blind, impotent fury and utter bewilder- 
ment. His rage hurt him — turned him physically sick. 
He galloped on with bent head. Once his horse stumbled ; 
he wrenched him up roughly, and buried his sharp spurs 
in the animal's tremblmg flanks. On — on ! — he only knew 
that he must hurry on. 

What had changed ? Why had the Princes turned 
against him ? They had known of the whole matter from 
the outset — and yet now they had spoken to him as to a 
foolish, rash boy — a trifler — an absurd meddler in grave 
affairs. And he ? He had said nothing to them — he had 
answered their taunts by flight ! Fool that he was ! Fool ! 
Fool ! ! He struck his brow with his clenched fist ; the 
blow brought the tears to his eyes, and suddenly he sobbed 
aloud. Yes, fool that he was ! But what would it have 
availed had he spoken to those cruel, unjust men ? They 
knew already — had known all the negotiations — and they 
had jeered at him. Was he mad ? Perhaps he had 
dreamed it all ? Or perhaps Scultetus, Duke Christian, 
Maurice of Nassau, even the Duke of Bouillon, had con- 
spired against him, had intrigued to make him the 
laughing-stock of Germany ? It seemed to him that, like 
another Ishmael, his hand was against every man and 



KING FRIEDRICH'S RIDE 167 

every man's hand was against him. He was baffled — 
spurned by those who should have been his friends. 

Then, like balsam on his wounded spirit, came the 
thought of Elizabeth. It was as though she laid her hand 
on his heart, soothing the tempestuous agony. Ah ! she 
knew — she understood — she was true to him. He knew 
now why he rode so wildly : he must get to her ; he must 
hide his shame and misery, his perplexity, in the refuge 
of her belief in him, of her tenderness, of her brave sanity. 
He urged his horse onward. He would go mad if he did 
not get to her soon ! 

But, perhaps, she too would have joined the conspiracy 
against him ? He jerked his horse back on its haunches. 
The cessation of movement, the stillness of the fields, the 
soft touch of the damp, cool air on his brow calmed his 
despair for an instant. He glanced back along the winding 
road. Far off towards Rothenburg he saw a little cloud 
of dust. He strained his vision. Yes, it must be a rider — 
some one pursuing him ! Perhaps the Princes of the Union 
had relented — had realised how base a thing their mockery 
had been — and had sent a rider to call him back ? But 
they should wait long — those cruel, sneering renegades — 
they should wait long before he would return to them ! 
They should learn that he was a king, a man with a lofty, 
serious mission in the world ; they should bitterly repent 
their insolence ! He was no callow youth to be treated 
thus. His twenty-three summers had made him, he 
deemed, sufficiently mature to need no reproval from grave 
statesmen ! A measure of self-confidence returned to him. 
He drew himself to his full height in his saddle. Taking 
off the heavy felt-hat he wiped the sweat from his brow, 
and moistened his parched lips with his tongue. His horse 
was breathing in sharp gasps. Would he carry him to 
Amberg ? It was a mighty journey without a halt, but by 
the bridle-path through the woods it was shorter than by 
the main road through Niirnberg. For nothing that man 
could offer — not even for the Imperial crown itself — would 
he ride back to Rothenburg that day. 

How slowly the rider came ! Doubtless he was some 



168 THE WINTER QUEEN 

sluggard greybeard sent by those other greybeards, the 
Princes of the Union, Friedrich told himself scornfully. 

At length the rider drew near. Friedrich saw that he 
wore the Palatine livery. So they had sent one of his own 
men to call him back ? The man galloped up. For an 
instant the King Elect looked at him in silence. 

" What is your message ? What do the Princes send to 
me ? " he asked haughtily. 

" I have no message, your Majesty," replied the man 
breathlessly ; " I saw you ride away, and as my horse was 
the only one ready saddled I rode after you. Your pardon, 
your Majesty, but you cannot ride thus alone." 

"You — have — no — message? No one sent you?" 
said Friedrich slowly. 

" None, sire. Duke Magnus and the other gentlemen 
went to the Rathaus after you rode away. But I have 
ridden often with your honoured father and with you : I 
could not let you ride through the country alone," the 
man said humbly. 

So the only one to follow him, the only faithful one 
among them all, was this old retainer, a man to whom in 
happy days he had half-unconsciously thrown a careless 
word of courteous greeting I 

" I thank you, friend," he said quietly. " Will you 
follow me to Amberg ? I ride on very urgent business." 
Without another word he spurred his horse forward. 
Once more the wheel of distraught, agonised thought 
whirled in his brain ; through it all there was but one 
clear idea — this, that he must reach Amberg — Amberg 
and Elizabeth Stuart. Once or twice his follower called 
to him : 

" Stay, your Highness, or your horse will fail you ! " 
For a few moments Friedrich halted; but then, though 
the poor beast strove for breath, he galloped on again. 
On, over field and marshland, thundering through the 
peaceful hamlets, deserted for the most part by the villagers 
at work ploughing the fields ; though sometimes groups of 
children stared, or peasant women, framed in the darkness 
of narrow doorways, stood and watched the riders pass ; or 



KING FKIEDRICH'S RIDE 169 

perhaps a tottering gafPer in a village street would shout 
hoarsely at them, or mutter through toothless gums, 
something that may have been a blessing or the peevish 
malediction of the senile. But hurrying riders were no 
uncommon disturbers of the hamlets' peace : " Princes 
and their messengers ride the devil's nags," the saying 
went among the peasants. 

On through pine woods and beech groves, where the 
fallen leaves lay deep deadening the sound of the horses' 
hoofs. Once the horses stopped before a little rill of pure 
water which trickled across the bridle-path. 

" Let him drink a mouthful, your Highness ; for God's 
sake, breathe him a moment or he will fail you! " the hench- 
man urged. " Alas ! the King is mad ! " the man muttered 
to himself, for Friedrich stared at him with wild, unseeing 
eyes ; yet for a little space he let his horse stand still. Then 
again he struck his spurs into the poor animal's heaving 
sides, and the wild race began once more. On — on 

They were past Niirnberg now. The bridle track lay 
across the stubble fields beyond the town walls. As they sped 
through a village again the henchman called to Friedrich — 

" Stay, your Highness, and rest an hour at this wayside 
inn ! Only an hour, your Highness, I can no more ! " 
But the King Elect paid no heed ; he galloped on savagely. 
How could he wait for food and drink ? Wait ! who had 
said wait ? That was King James's word ! Perhaps if he 
had waited for the English King's advice the Princes of 
the Union would not have dared to fail him — to insult 
him thus ? But they had known ! The rhythmic thud of 
the horses' hoofs wove itself into a refrain in his distraught 
mind : " They have known — they have known — " and 
then again : " My hand against them — always now — for 
they have known — " Laughter ! who had laughed at 
him ? — who jeered at him ? The illusion was so complete 
that he checked his horse to listen — it was only the 
henchman calling to him again : — 

" I can no more — my horse is spent ! Wait, your High- 
ness ! " The King waved his arm in a gesture of angry 
dismissal, and urged his failing steed on — on 



170 THE WINTER QUEEN 

He was alone now ; the henchman had fallen behind. 
Alone ! of course he was alone — he, Ishmael, the outcast, 
whose hand was against every man ! 

The light of the autumn day grew dim, but he was not 
far from Amberg now ; only a few more leagues to ride and 
he would kneel before Elizabeth Stuart and rest his head 
upon her breast. He knew each yard of the road now — 
each tiny grassy valley with the brown rocks standing 
out so quaintly ; each clump of fir-trees was familiar. On, 
poor horse — on — only a few more leagues — on — on 

The mist was sweeping up in long, low, white clouds 
from the valleys, and the trees were indistinct in the half 
light. The horse galloped feebly, the thud-thud of his 
hoofs was irregular, faltering, but the chill of the damp 
mist against his breast and in his straining, foam-flecked 
nostrils refreshed him, and he responded gallantly to the 
cruel urging of his rider's spur, and to the jerks of the bridle 
against the bit. Then, of a sudden, he stumbled and fell, 
flinging Friedrich violently forward. The King extricated 
himself from the stirrups and stood beside the quivering, 
panting animal. 

" A few more leagues ! Up, you brute, up ! " he called 
wildly, and wrenched at the bridle. Poor Hurry lay still 
for a moment, with straining, bloodshot eyes which im- 
plored dumbly for mercy; then slowly, weakly, he struggled 
up and stood trembling. The King flung himself into the 
saddle, and once more the jaded, broken steed galloped on. 

The night fell and a little moaning breeze sprang up. 
Twice — thrice — poor Hurry staggered, and the King was 
forced to let him stand, for his breath came in whistling, 
laboured gasps, and it seemed as though he must fall ; 
but Friedrich urged him on and the ruthless spurs tore 
his sides. Bravely, magnificently, fighting the death 
in his failing limbs, the cracking agony in his heart, the 
horse sped on, hour after hour ; each mile he went slower, 
more weakly, but still on — on — on beneath that urging 
hand — beneath those cruel spurs. Mile after mile they 
traversed. How long the well-known road seemed in the 
darkness ! 



KING FRIEDRICH'S RIDE 171 

They passed through a village ; all was quiet, all slept — 
the curfew had tolled hours since. It was night. At last, 
below in the valley there shone a few twinkling lights from 
the Amberg watch-towers. The rider saw them, and a cry of 
joy burst from his lips With a brave effort the heroic horse 
galloped onward down the slope and over the plain. 

The Vilsthor was shut, but King Friedrich's cry brought 
a sleepy gatekeeper to peer through the slit-window in the 
heavy gate. Slowly the great bolts and ponderous bars 
were withdrawn and the door creakingly swung open. 
Again the spurs rent the horse's flanks, and he struggled 
forward through the cobble-stoned street to the Castle 
moat; but here on the bridge he failed, staggered, 
stumbled, plunged forward, stumbled again and fell prone. 
That last gallop had rent his heart in twain — so near the 
haven of rest. Alas ! that gallop had killed him. Feebly 
the slim, graceful limbs twitched ; for the last time those 
brave, faithful eyes, fast glazing now, yearned up in an 
agony of supplication, praying for forgiveness to the rider 
who had ridden him to death. The King stood gazing 
on the one friend who, on a day of failure, had not failed 
him ; on a day of lonely pain, had not deserted him ; the 
one friend who had given his life to serve him. 

The castle lay shrouded in darkness and silence. Twice 
a sentry challenged the King as he strode up. 

" Halt, or I fire ! " the man-at-arms shouted as Fried- 
rich gave no answer. 

" Fool ! I am the Palsgrave ! " Friedrich cried angrily. 
The man fell back. " Open ! Open ! God's life ! am I 
to be shut out of mine own castle ? " the King cried, and 
beat against the door furiously. From the river a white 
mist had risen, and wrapped the world in a chill em- 
brace. The King listened. There was silence over city 
and castle. 

" Is it so late ? " he called to the sentry. 

" Nigh upon midnight, your Highness," the man 
answered. Ah, yes ! he had travelled slowly since night- 
fall — the horse, poor brute, had been so slow — so slow. 
Poor Hurry — what a hideous dream it was 



172 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" Open ! open ! It is I, the Palsgrave ! " he called again, 
and smote the panels with his clenched fists. Somewhere 
in the castle a door banged, and a footfall echoed through 
the quiet house. At last the heavy door was opened 
narrowly, and a serving-man's face peered through the 
crack. 

" Open ! It is I, the Palsgrave ! " Friedrich cried again. 
The flickering light from a lantern fell on the King's face, 
then an exclamation of surprise came from the serving- 
man, and the door was flung wide. 

" Your Highness ! Where is your Highness's horse ? 
Shall I lead him to the stable ? " the astonished man 
stammered. 

" On the bridge — dead ! Oh God ! " the King answered, 
and a sob burst from his lips. 

" Friedrich ! what has happened ? " Elizabeth Stuart 
stood on the stairs. She stood there in her trailing bed- 
gown, her luxuriant, brown hair spread like a cloak over 
her shoulders. Her eyes were brilliant with sleep, and a 
rosy flush was on her cheek, like the glow on the face of 
an awakened child. 

" Friedrich, my Lord ! what have they done to thee ? " 
she said wonderingly. He pushed past her almost roughly. 

" Come ! not here ! I cannot tell you here ! All the 
world listens, all the world mocks me ! " he half sobbed. 
She followed him into her sleeping-room. Here a single 
taper burned, and through the uncurtained casement the 
murky night seemed like a sombre, inexorable eye gazing 
into the room. Elizabeth had thrown back the curtain 
when, startled from sleep, she had endeavoured to see 
what brought that clamour beneath her windows. 

Friedrich fell on his knees beside her chair, and hoarse 
sobs shook him as an ague fit. 

" Who has dared to do this to thee ? " she cried. " Fried- 
rich, my poor, tired love ! I will fetch wine ! " She passed 
into the supper-parlour. In a small wall-press she found a 
flask of sack. With trembling hands she poured a deep 
draught into a silver goblet, and brought it to the King. 
Very tenderly she lifted his head, and soothingly, as we 



KING FRIEDKICH'S RIDE 173 

speak to a tired child, she bade him drink and rest. At 
first he could not swallow the wine, for his sobs rent him, 
and his throat seemed closed by some cruel, strangling 
hand. She held the goblet to his lips. 

" Drink, my dear one ; you see you are safe with me. 
Friedrich, my love ! Poor wounded heart of mine ! " she 
said again and again. At length he grew calmer, and 
slowly, like a sick man, he drank. Then she sat down 
and drew him to her. For a while he lay there as one 
stunned ; and then, in halting broken words, he told her 
the piteous story of his humiliation, of his defeat, of his 
furious ride, and of how poor Hurry had fallen dead on 
the castle bridge. 

She held him quietly in her strong arms, and gradu- 
ally, like the calming of a tempestuous sea, the waves 
of madness and despair in his soul sank to stillness. The 
hammering questions in his brain ceased, and he rested 
— almost slept. But Elizabeth, wide-eyed and tortured, 
gazed out into the darkness through the uncurtained 
casement. She marvelled dumbly that such weakness 
could be, and yet she was too strong, too unself-conscious, 
to despise Friedrich. She only yearned to help and com- 
fort him, to hide his weakness in her strength. Courage ! 
courage ! what was the use of despair ? she asked herself 
silently. 

Yet she could not forgive him for having ridden his 
horse to death. Through her pity for Friedrich there 
pulsed now a little throb of scorn which his weakness 
had not called forth ; but this was a meanness, a crime 
against a faithful, willing friend. She pictured poor 
Hurry striving to content his rider, on — on, over those 
long, weary miles ; she saw the poor beast's patient, 
straining eyes, clouded with death now : death in the 
service of a careless, thoughtless rider ! A hot flush of 
anger rose to her cheek; her brother could not, no 
Englishman could, have done such a thing, she thought. 
She realised the eternal barrier of nationality between her 
and Friedrich. Resolutely she turned her thoughts away — 
that was a subject it was disloyal to consider ; this man was 



174 THE WINTER QUEEN 

her man — weak perchance, faulty — -but her man for all 
that. Over the bowed brown head which leaned on her 
breast she smiled, ruefully a trifle, but bravely, humorously 
remembering her brother's saying of her that : " The mare 
was the better horse of the Palatine pair." 

Complete stillness reigned in the castle of Amberg. 
Elizabeth moved her arm from beneath Friedrich's 
shoulder. 

"Oh! ma mie,let me rest another moment," he murmured 
plaintively, and then once more he recounted of his failure, 
of the cruel insult he had suffered ; called himself a fool, 
bitterly reproached himself. And Elizabeth, with all the 
generous inconsistency of a loyal woman, spoke to him of 
how brave he was. She praised him, laughed gently at 
his doubts and fears, assured him of her trust in him and 
of her belief in his future, because she felt that in her 
confidence in him lay his only chance of courage ; because, 
too, confidence was the expression of her loyalty. 

The grey dawn saw Friedrich sleeping peacefully, saw 
too, how Elizabeth Stuart's eyes were wide with sleepless 
sadness, for this was the first time she had realised to the 
full how weak a thing was Friedrich, King of Bohemia. 



CHAPTEE XI 

PRAGUE 
" Quern Deus perdere vult dementat prius." 

AN autumn haze lay over the White Mountain, and a 
/\ heavy dew sparkled on the scant grass which 
--*- ^ clothed the long, bare slope. A train of splendid 
travellers wound its slow way along the road which leads 
out of far-off Germany to Prague. First clattered a regi- 
ment of mounted arquebusiers, whose accoutrements 
glittered bravely in the morning sun. Behind them came 
a gallant cortege of nobles, and following these were five 
gilded coaches. Then came a detachment of men-at-arms 
and a long file of baggage waggons and sumptermen with 
laden horses. This day Friedrich, King of Bohemia, and 
Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, with their suite, journeyed 
from the Castle of Bustehrad, where they had spent the 
preceding night, to their town of Prague. 

Autumn had decked Bohemia to greet her new 
sovereign : the bare hills, so unutterably dreary under a 
leaden sky, smiled to-day beneath the haze — smiled and 
glistened in the morning dew. 

Beside her Majesty's coach rode my young Lord Bernard 
of Thurn, son of the statesman. The elder Thurn was a 
polished courtier, a man who knew both Court and camp ; 
but, though he played the patriot, he was, in truth, more 
Austrian than Bohemian ; whereas his son, brought up at 
Prague, was a true Czech, with all the Czech's fiery love 
of his country. 

Bernard Thurn rode beside Elizabeth Stuart's carosse 
and told her, in glowing words, a dozen histories of old 
Bohemian days. 

" See, madame ! " he cried, " by this road, here to the 
right, we should reach Karlstein. Ah ! how noble a 



176 THE WINTEK QUEEN 

fortress ! Never in all history has an enemy captured 
this stronghold. I would I could hide you there, madame, 
if ever the enemy threatened. For a year and a day I 
would hold it for you ! For a year ? Nay ! — for ever, if 
need be ! " The Queen laughed. 

"For a year and a day, as in some fairy story," she 
said. 

"Madame, Karlstein is like some fabled castle of 
old ! " he cried enthusiastically. He told her how the 
Emperor Charles IV. had built it deep in the hill-land, 
so hidden away that no invading army could ever find it ; 
how the magnificent stronghold was guarded by difficult 
passes ; how it stood high on a crag and was built up 
around the soaring rock peak, which was thrust forth grimly 
in the masonry even at the level of the highest windows ; 
and that,above all,over the gigantic rock, high in the clouds, 
secluded even above the abode of kings, grandly isolated 
from all, was the sacred chapel where the Bohemian crown 
was kept. He told her how the Emperor Sigismund, the 
accursed one, who had doomed Master John Hus to a fiery 
death, had stolen many of the precious stones, had torn 
away whole sheets of silver and gold, and caused them to 
be melted down to make coin to pay for his shameful 
splendour. Bernard Thurn spoke with poetic fervour, and 
Elizabeth Stuart sat in her gilded carosse and listened with 
shining eyes and parted lips, as a child listens to a fairy- 
tale. He told her how no man might enter the sanctuary 
of the Kreuz Kapelle, no man save God's high priests 
and the Bohemian King; but yet how sometimes his 
father, Burggrave of Karlstein, had let him peep into the 
outer chapel, a wondrous place, like unto a chapter of 
the Revelation of St. John. For the walls were encrusted 
with precious stones, the roof was wrought in pure gold, 
and the windows were made of strange glittering crystals, 
through which the dim light fell in a thousand prismatic 
hues athwart the floor of jasper, jade, and porphyry. On 
the walls between the flashing setting of topaz, of amethyst, 
and of pale iridescent opals, chrysolites, and blood-red gar- 
nets, there were set mosaics representing Bohemia's saints, 



PRAGUE 177 

whose halos, and the jewels of whose vestments, were of 
gold and priceless gems. 

" Does all this marvel still remain ? " Elizabeth asked 
wonderingly. 

" Aye, sweet madame, and, as long as Karlstein stands, 
the Bohemian race will not forget their ancient glory and 
their bitter wrongs," said young Thurn. 

The sun was high in the heavens when the King's 
cortege drew near to the Star Palace on the White 
Mountain, that quaint Renaissance pavilion which the 
Archduke Ferdinand of Austria had caused to be built 
for the Lady Philippine Welser, the patrician maiden of 
Augsburg, whom he had raised to royal rank by wedding 
her in the face of the Emperor's bitter hostility. A strange 
pavilion, this Star Palace, for even a hunting-lodge in those 
days was perforce fortified, and the Palace, built in six 
massive-pointed sections to portray a star in stone, was 
surrounded by a ponderous loopholed wall ; and it was 
believed that the Star Palace was an impregnable, if 
miniature, fortress. 

That day the heavy gates stood wide open ; Bohemia's 
flag flew bravely above the Palace ; rich tapestries were 
hung from out the windows, and a crowd of gorgeously 
clad nobles stood before the door eager to greet their 
Sovereign Lord and his gracious Lady. 

All the actors in the Bohemian drama were there : my 
Lords of Thurn, of Hohenlohe, of Michaelowitz, Count 
Ernest Mansfeld, Duke Christian of Anhalt and his son 
Prince Christel, Duke Magnus of Wirtemberg, Duke 
William of Weimar ; the Bohemian Lords William of 
Lobkowitz, Ruppa, Czernin, Kinsky ; the aged Schlick, 
and many other Czechish gentlemen. Right glad was this 
meeting between Friedrich of the Palatinate and the men 
who had made him King. The autumn sun shone on a 
gay scene enough, and surely it was of happy augury that 
the new King and Queen should make their entry into 
Prague on this smiling autumn day ? 

In the Star Palace a banquet had been spread, and soon 
the pavilion rang with laughter and young voices. 

M 



178 THE AVINTER QUEEN 

After the banquet the English ladies wandered with the 
Bohemian gallants through the quaint chambers formed 
by the six points of the star. Tapestries were hung on 
the walls beneath those delicate Renaissance mouldings of 
the frieze, which have made the Star Palace famous as a 
very treasury of perfect design. In each room logs flamed 
in the wide, open fireplaces ; and the ladies vowed that 
Bohemia was a friendly land. 

" We have only seen sunshine and kindly looks since 
we came to your country, my lords," said Elizabeth 
Stuart to the nobles who stood around her. " And this 
is the goodliest hunting-lodge I have ever seen ! I shall 
often journey hither, and I pray you all to grace my first 
feast in the Star ! " 

" A Star Palace is a fitting resting-place for the fairest 
star of womanhood ! " murmured young Bernard Thurn ; 
and Ritter Christel cast him a half-melancholy, half- 
humorous look, for he saw that the youth had already 
learned to worship at that shrine where so many wor- 
shipped, and were rewarded — by a smile. 

The Bohemians were hugely diverted by her Majesty's 
monkey, and when she told them, in her light way, that 
he was her eldest son, they laughed long. Little Prince 
Hal, leaning against his mother's knee, cried out that he 
was her eldest son. 

" Mother, I am Prince of Bohemia ! " he whimpered 
angrily. 

" Nay, sweeting, Jacky is my heir ! " returned Eliza- 
beth, laughing. A chill fell on the laughing group. The 
Bohemians found this a sorry jest. Did their new Queen 
mock them ? Did she mean that a monkey was good 
enough to be Bohemia's King ? The unfortunate are easily 
wounded by a light word, and the Bohemians, ever an un- 
lucky race, are morbidly sensitive and quickly suspicious. 

Elizabeth Stuart saw the changed look on the courtiers' 
faces. With a sudden sense of helplessness she realised 
that a foreign language is a dangerous vehicle for jest. 
She had spoken in French, and the Bohemians for the 
most part knew the language but indifferently. She 



PRAGUE 179 

glanced at the King. He was standing in the embra- 
sure of one of the windows with Hohenlohe, old Thurn, 
and Master Scultetus. Affairs of State at the wrong 
moment, of course, she thought impatiently ! She rose. 

" We must hurry onwards now," she cried. " I would 
fain tarry at this happy place, but I am all impatient to 
behold my new abode in Prague." 

The bevy of English damsels gathered round her, the 
coaches were summoned, and amid laughter and gaiety the 
cortege resumed its way over the White Mountain. 

When the travellers came to the brow of the hill, Prague 
lay like a dream-city in the haze of the autumn midday. 
The sun touched to splendour the myriad turrets, towers, 
cupolas, and spires of the Hradcany Palace, and the broad 
majestic Moldau, sweeping grandly onwards between the 
" Old City " and the " Small Town," seemed to be an inlet 
from the blue sky. Along the road beyond the city walls 
a dense crowd of peasants stood and welcomed the splendid 
cavalcade with outbursts of passionate joy. King Fried- 
rich on a sorel charger rode alone, isolated from the 
other riders so that all should see him. He wore a 
sumptuous tunic of "viol-brown" velvet embroidered 
with silver, his slashed hose were of brown, his hat and 
feather were brown, his ruff was of fair white linen, and 
on his breast there flashed the jewelled collar of St. George 
of England ; a right kingly figure, this debonnair prince, 
this brave young champion of an oppressed people ; and 
the dark-browed Czechs, with the short dog-like faces and 
pathetic dog-like yearning eyes, gave him rapturous greet- 
ing as he rode to their well-beloved Prague. 

With a clang, as though the whole world had been set 
ringing, the bells of the city chimed out from every 
church and chapel. At the Strahow Gate the royal 
cortege halted, King Friedrich dismounted, and her 
Majesty, too, descended from her coach. The whole 
Court formed a circle behind the King and Queen, while 
the burgomaster and the chief city authorities did homage 
to their new ruler. 

Now through the gates there appeared a curious com- 



180 THE WINTER QUEEN 

pany of riders : men in ancient breastpieces and battered 
helmets, with targets, scythes and sickles, hayforks and 
ploughshares, and rude two-handed swords,notched,broken, 
and rusty with age. These grotesque riders halted before 
the King and struck their weapons against their targets. 
For a moment Elizabeth Stuart remained grave and digni- 
fied, then her lips trembled and she turned her head away to 
hide her amusement at these uncouth welcomers. Unfor- 
tunately her eyes met the laughing gaze of Duke Magnus. 

At this moment the riders burst forth in a hoarse cry: 
" Vivat Rex Ferdinandus ! " 

Friedrich's face grew dark. What meant the loons ? 
Was it in mockery that they greeted him by the name of 
his enemy ? Schlick spoke to Thurn, who in a hurried 
whisper, explained that this was a mistake, and that in 
their excitement the peasant band had shouted the wrong 
name. A Bohemian gentleman went forward and spoke 
with the leader of the troop, and now they thundered : 
" Vivat ! Vivat Fredericus Rex ! " 

But this had been too much for the Queen's com- 
posure, and she and her whole Court laughed in a tempest 
of hilarity. Even Friedrich was infected by the merri- 
ment, and, though he strove to hide his amusement, after an 
instant he too gave in and joined in the untimely mirth. 

For a space the peasant warriors waited. They were 
the descendants of those who had fought under Ziska in 
the Hussite wars, and their curious accoutrements were 
the weapons which their forbears had wielded to revenge 
Bohemia's patriot, Master John Hus. These strange, bat- 
tered weapons were their most cherished possessions, sacred 
emblems to them of Bohemia's freedom, beautiful in their 
eyes because they had been beautiful to the reverent gaze 
of many generations. And on this day they had come 
forth bearing these sacred relics of their country's history 
as symbols of their ardour in their new King's service. 
They did not know that they appeared queer and ridicu- 
lous, — alas! when do we ever know how absurd the ex- 
pression of our feelings seems to the cold scrutiny of the 
world ? 



PRAGUE 181 

They stood dumbfounded before the laughing Court, 
these Czech peasants in their ludicrous armour. Not 
they alone were wounded by the thoughtless mirth, the 
Bohemian nobles also were aghast at such ill-mannered 
levity. Young Thurn came to the King. 

" Sire," he said bitterly, " perchance you do not know 
the meaning of those weapons, broken in Bohemia's ser- 
vice, but I pray you speak with these men. They wish 
you well, and would die for you." The King measured 
him with a haughty look. Like most Germans, Friedrich 
was very jealous of his dignity. 

" I am not accustomed to receive commands, sir," he 
said stiffly ; yet he stepped forward and would have given 
greeting to the peasant troop, but with dark looks the 
men turned away, and with a jangle of steel and iron 
they galloped through the Strahow gate. 

" Unmannerly clowns ! " cried the King angrily. " I 
have to thank you, my young Count Thurn, for this 
affront," he added. 

Once more the cortege moved on. In the broad street 
which led from the Strahow gate to the palace, the 
populace stood so densely packed that the King's pro- 
gress was of necessity slow ; but his Majesty appeared to 
have forgotten his displeasure, and it was a very smiling, 
gracious youth whom the people of Prague greeted as 
their King on that bright autumn morning of 1619. 

A courtly company wandered through the suite of 
rooms which the Emperor Rudolf had built above the 
state chambers of the Hradcdny, to store his collection 
of pictures, statues, and carven ivories. Her new Majesty 
of Bohemia, with a true Stuart's love of art, rejoiced 
in finding such masterpieces in her new abode, and 
she vowed they consoled her for a multitude of small 
discomforts. 

" Ah ! " she cried, " see this carven ivory, and this fair 
woman's face of far-off times ! A Greek idolatrous image 
you say. Master Scultetus ? Alack ! but beauty may be 
an earthly and vain thing and a snare for the soul, as 



182 THE WINTER QUEEN 

you tell me, Hocliwurden, but I am consoled thereby for 
the ugliness of the brown Moldau water wherein I laved 
my hands this day ! " She laughed and passed on with 
her ladies. Scultetus shook his head ; her Majesty was 
too full of laughter, too light of word. The worthy 
preacher gave the Queen no credit for her undaunted 
cheerfulness through many a weary day. He loved the 
sour faces and the whining tones of narrow piety. 

Merrily Elizabeth Stuart and her Court paced through 
the rooms. It was the day after their Majesties' entrance 
into Prague, and the Queen was like some happy child 
exploring the rambling precincts of the Hradcdny Palace ; 
yet she shuddered when she was shown the council 
chamber window wherefrom the Imperial Councillors had 
been flung. 

In the midst of her wanderings, a lackey came and 
announced that a deputation of burghers' ladies craved 
audience, and her Majesty immediately hurried to re- 
ceive them. Count Schomberg, following in the Queens 
wake, sighed at the lack of etiquette in Bohemia. There 
seemed to be no thought of careful, programmatic arrange- 
ment; and he sighed again when he remembered the 
absurd occurrences of the preceding day. A Court un- 
controlled by a definite programme is like a troop ot 
comedians without a scene-master ; the clown and the 
harlequin play the first roles, and no one knows if the 
stage king may not suddenly don the clown's cap, he 
thought angrily. 

Elizabeth Stuart stood waiting to receive the Bohemian 
matrons. Amalia Solms and the English ladies-in-waiting 
were grouped behind her. Master Scultetus and Schom- 
berg stood together, nervously awaiting the appearance 
of the deputation, and Schomberg cursed the lack of 
foresight which had caused the Queen of a foreign- 
speaking race to be thus unprepared for the reception of 
her new subjects. He prayed that some of the Bohemian 
matrons would know a few words of French or German. 
Ah ! why had he not insisted on some one who was 
master or mistress of the Czech tongue being in per- 



PRAGUE 183 

manent attendance on the Queen ? It was a ridiculous 
and awkward predicament — a fit subject for a comedy; 
ruefully he considered that comedies may be diverting 
to the audience, but that to the players themselves they 
are often unpleasant. 

The doors of the Queen's audience chamber were 
thrown open, and there entered some dozen portly 
matrons, dark-browed and sallow, with short, broad faces 
and melancholy eyes. They were clad in very full cloth 
skirts and stiff, pointed bodices adorned with numerous 
gold and silver chains ; their head-dresses were towering 
edifices of plaited ribbon held down to the oiled, dark 
hair by heavy round metal ornaments of barbaric design. 
These matrons, looking portentously solemn, each bore a 
loaf of bread so vast that they were forced to encircle it 
with both arms; at their girdles were hung large salt- 
bags. They stood in silence before the Queen. Elizabeth 
stepped forward. 

" I give you good greeting, mesdames," she said ; " if 
it is your kind wish to bring me the delicious bakery of 
your ovens, I thank you." She looked round helplessly. 
Schomberg's face was blank with astonishment, and even 
Master Scultetus's gaunt cheeks were brick coloured, and 
his lips twitched with laughter. Her Majesty's eyes met 
the derisive glance of my Lady Phyllis Devereux. 

" For the dear Lord's sake, sweet friend, do not laugh," 
whispered her Majesty. " Schomberg, what am I to say 
to these strange visitors ? " A ripple of merriment broke 
the silence. 

" Mesdames, I thank you," began Elizabeth once 
more ; and then, alas ! her gravity departed, and she 
laughed aloud. 

One of the Bohemian matrons came forward and 
spoke some swift, indistinct Czechish words ; but laughter 
had usurped the place of prudence, of dignity, and of 
kindliness, and would not be stilled. 

The ladies of Prague turned away, and, with bowed 
heads, filed out of the audience chamber. The offering 
of loaves and salt was an ancient Bohemian custom. It 



184 THE WINTER QUEEN 

was symbolic not only of their homage, but of their 
goodwill, of their ardour to serve and to give of their 
wealth to their liege lords. This usage was so universal 
among Slav races that the Prague matrons could not 
believe that any one could misunderstand the significance 
of the homely ceremony. 

The four days between King Friedrich's arrival in 
Prague and his coronation were taken up by long 
and anxious consultations between the King, Scultetus, 
Camerarius, the chief Bohemian nobles, and the Adminis- 
trator or Lutheran Archbishop, as to the rites to be 
used for crowning this Calvinistic King. It was unani- 
mously agreed that no ritual of the Roman Church could 
find a place in this ceremony; but it was distinctly 
difficult to anoint a king, to present him with the sacred 
symbols of his office, to go through a grand religious 
ceremonial, if all the ancient customs were to be con- 
demned as idolatrous. Like so much in the history of 
Kiug Friedrich, it was not only an awkward dilemma, 
but there was a ridiculous vein, an inconsistency in the 
whole matter. He must be crowned for reasons of State 
and public sentiment ; his coronation must be a grand 
and impressive rite, symbolic of the majesty, of the power, 
and of the holy office of kings — and his Calvinistic creed 
forbade ritual and condemned symbols ! If nothing was 
to be taken from the ordained Romish coronation form, 
what could they devise to fill the place thus vacant ? 

Then Scultetus and the Lutheran Administrator em- 
barked on a flood of polemic, and disagreeing, of course, 
they returned from their theological voyage, bringing 
personal animosity to add to the tangle. It was most 
unpleasant, a little absurd, and time pressed, for the 
coronation was fixed for November 4th, and take place it 
must, in one form or another. They asked anxiously what 
form had been used in the crowning of other Protestant 
kings ? Queen Elizabeth of England had been crowned 
and anointed according to the ancient ritual, though she 
had caused gospel and epistle to be read in English. 



PRAGUE 185 

James I. and Queen Anne had been crowned together, 
but there was no time for the Bohemian Council to ascer- 
tain the exact form used. Also Scultetus claimed that 
the tenets of the English Church were a mixture of 
Lutheran and Popish doctrine ; King Friedrich was Cal- 
vinistic and should be crowned according to his cult. At 
length the disputants were silenced by Time, who pressed, 
and by the decision of the Bohemian nobles, who averred 
that as the coronation was that of a Bohemian king, it 
should be done according to the will of the Bohemian 
Lutheran Administrator. 

So on the 4th day of November 1619, in the ancient 
Church of St. Vitus, Friedrich, Prince Palatine, was 
anointed and crowned King, with a Lutheran ritual. 
The Czechish language was used instead of Latin ; the 
monarch himself understanding no word thereof, re- 
cited the responses in the national tongue, having learned 
to gabble them by heart. Scultetus, allowed no part in 
the proceedings, stood dark-browed and sombre, watch- 
ing his pupil receive crown, orb and sceptre, ring and 
sword. And Scultetus vowed in his heart that the pure 
Faith of Calvin should be avenged for this outrage. 

It was a time of banqueting and much splendour in 
Prague. The cannon thundered royal salutes ; gold and 
silver were scattered, by the King's command, among the 
populace ; the fountains ran with good red wine ; the 
citizens feasted and rejoiced ; the councillors voted large 
sums for the royal maintenance ; and medals were struck 
to commemorate the coronation. 

Meanwhile, on the southern Bohemian frontier, guard- 
ing the passes from Lower Austria, there was encamped 
a horde of starving, unpaid men, who often stole away 
to the villages to sell their weapons, generally for mean 
prices, yet sufficient to buy a little food. This was the 
army of Friedrich, King of Bohemia, just now so grandly 
crowned ; of Friedrich, who scattered gold and silver 
among the populace of Prague ! 

Her Majesty Elizabeth, too, a few days later, was 
crowned with much pomp, and again there was universal 



186 THE WINTER QUEEN 

rejoicing, more banqueting, more feasting for the citizens, 
more wine flowing from the fountains, and enormous 
quantities of bread and meat distributed among the 
poor. 

There came no thought of disaster to the new Court ; 
all was splendour and rejoicing. What mattered it that 
King James of England wrote angry censure of the 
crown's acceptance ? That from Vienna came the menace 
of the Empire's ban being laid upon Friedrich ? That 
Maximilian of Bavaria wrote solemn warning ? That the 
Elector of Saxony openly threw in his lot with the 
Imperial party ? Friedrich was an anointed King and 
Elizabeth Stuart a crowned Queen : the dream of years 
had become a reality. Friedrich was but three-and- 
twenty, and success is an intoxicating draught to the 
young. 

Towards the end of November her Majesty gave birth 
to a son, and again Prague rejoiced; and the kindly 
Bohemian matrons appeared once more, and this time 
they brought a far different gift instead of those mis- 
understood loaves ! They offered Elizabeth Stuart an 
ebony cradle inlaid with ivory, and a kist filled with fine 
linen for the baby prince. 

Prosperity, peace, and content reigned over Bohemia, 
but there was a sombre figure moving through the groups 
of gay courtiers at the Hradcany palace, a man full of 
hatred, discontent, and anger ; this was Master Scultetus 
the Calvinist. Elizabeth Stuart noted a cloud on the 
King's brow. She questioned him, but he gave evasive 
answers, and, in her happiness, she paid scant heed to his 
troubled look. Friedrich was a man of moods, and she 
was well used to his changes of mien. 

One chill December morning Master Scultetus and a 
crowd of black-cloaked men, followed by a gang of work- 
men, entered the ancient Church of St. Vitus, which 
adjoins the Hradcany Palace. The church lay in gloom, 
no light glimmered before the high altar, no lamps shed 
their radiance before the shrines of St. Vitus and of St. 



PRAGUE 187 

John Nepomuk. For three hundred years these lights 
had burned before the reHcs of those holy martyrs ; for 
three hundred years the Czechish people had prayed God 
to hear their petitions through the intercession of these 
His chosen ones. Even when the Bohemians had broken 
away from their ancient cult, in pious memory they had 
still venerated these shrines, and Lutheran and Papist 
alike had seen in the honouring of Bohemia's great dead 
a sacred national custom. A few days before the new 
King, the hero who was to deliver Bohemia, came to 
Prague, the Cathedral of St. Vitus had been taken from 
the priests, and since then the church had been deserted ; 
the flowers had withered upon the altars, and in the un- 
tended lamps the little flames had flickered and sunk to 
death. There were many among the populace who had 
bitterly resented this harsh dealing. Had not Friedrich 
promised religious freedom to Bohemia ? Not alone the 
Papists were moved to anger ; the Lutherans, too, resented 
this act of Calvinistic tyranny. It was a dangerous thing 
to affront the revered "Domherren," the priests of the 
Church of St. Vitus ; and though each priest was paid a 
few thalers a week, this scanty pension could not appease 
their anger nor assuage their horror at the injustice of 
Freedom's champion dispossessing them of their church. 
Quietly the well-known " Domherren " glided through the 
streets of Prague, whispering their bitterness into the ears 
of Lutheran and Catholic alike. These priests had been 
in the crowd which had stood round the doors of the 
Vitus Church during the coronation; and though the 
feasting populace, in the excitement of the rejoicings, had 
scarce noticed the whispers, some of the poison had 
slipped into their thoughts, and afterwards, when the 
merrymaking was past, they had remembered the priests' 
words, and a pulse of sullen resentment, a quaver of 
suspicion, had lived in the people's hearts against their 
Calvinistic ruler. 

Master Scultetus and his followers stood gazing into 
the dark church. High over the rood-screen the stone 
crucifix seemed an appeal so potent that it was almost a 



188 THE WINTER QUEEN 

menace, and on the many altars in the aisles the carven 
figures of the saints loomed like quiet watchers. All 
around, a majestic company of silent witnesses to their 
country's vanished greatness, lay Bohemia's mighty dead — 
keeping watch they, too, in the desolate church : Emperors 
and Kings and Dukes of Bohemia, their names recording 
dynasties long dead ; and beside them lay the proud 
nobles of the land : Lobkowitz and Duba, Wlaschin and 
Rozmital, Pardubitz and Wratislaw von Bernstein, knights 
and princes of the church. Verily, it was a sumptuous 
court gathered round the King of Pain and Humility upon 
the cross. 

The deserted church was a sanctuary of stillness and 
of memory, and even Scultetus paused on the threshold. 
Then, with a fierce gesture, like a cruel hunter setting his 
hounds at a fallen prey, he flung out his arm. 

" See ! The accursed dolls, the hideous idols ! " he 
cried. " See the graven images before which the people 
are wont to offer sacrilegious prayer ! Away with these 
sham gods ! We are come to cleanse God's church ! 
Down with these wanton ejQfigies ! " 

The black-cloaked company rushed into the church. 
Like madmen they broke open the wrought-iron railings 
before the tombs of Bohemia's nobles, and with fury they 
attacked the altars, trampling under foot the silken hang- 
ings, strewing the withered flowers upon the ground, and 
hurling down the golden altar vases. Half a hundred 
German masons and artisans, and a band of mercenary 
soldiers whom Scultetus had summoned to perform this 
foul task, set to work upon the stone figures of the saints, 
dealing blow after blow with their hammers upon the 
serene faces of the sacred statues. A flood of ribaldry 
broke loose as the madness of destruction rose in the 
hearts of these rough men, half-drunken already from 
the raw spirits which the Calvinist had caused to be 
served to them ere they followed him to the church. 

" Ha ! you meek-faced wench, you'd have made a 
pretty bedfellow had you tried that game instead of 
piping prayers ! " yelled one man as he shattered the 



PRAGUE 189 

mild brow of St. Agnes. A roar of coarse laughter 
greeted this. 

" Come, here's Peter with his keybunch ! I would it 
could open the priests' cellar," shouted another, while 
he hacked with his heavy axe into the gilded statue of 
St. Peter. 

" See, comrades ! I've found a blessed saint's pate," 
roared a drunken Saxon lurching from a side-chapel. 
" Here 1 catch it then ! I'll warrant 'twill make a good 
ball ! " He flung the skull into a group of workers who 
toiled to shatter the delicate stone tracery of the chancel 
gate. 

The ravagers warmed to their work. Scultetus stood 
with folded arms gazing on the ghastly sight with a 
smile of exultation. He laid no touch upon the wrecked 
church, but he gloated over each blow dealt to those 
accursed Popish images. The church was like some mad 
dream of a devastated feasting-hall ; the ground was strewn 
with silken hangings, with velvets, with embroideries of 
gold and silver thread ; golden vases rolled on the stone 
floor ; waxen limbs from the lesser shrines lay, grotesque 
and horrible, in the folds of the altar-cloths ; gilt and silver 
candlesticks, bent and twisted, lay about; and jewelled 
reliquaries, despoiled of their precious stones, were mixed 
into the gorgeous refuse of spoiled beauty; and every- 
where, like symbols of death, lay the withered flowers 
from the altars. The thunderous noise of hammers upon 
the stone rang out unceasingly, while ever and anon a 
deafening crash told that another statue had been felled. 
A knot of men made it their especial task to empty the 
reliquaries, and with obscene jests the sacred dust was 
flung about, and the brittle bones of the long dead were 
broken and thrown into the air with lewd shouts for their 
last requiem mass. 

Still, over all, the crucified King remained inviolate, 
high above the wrecked rood-screen. Only two things 
had been spared by the destroyers — the crucifix and the 
royal oratory, that quaint fifteenth-century gallery which 
clung to the church wall like a swallow's nest, high above 



190 THE WINTER QUEEN 

the ravagers' reach. But it was not for this reason that 
the oratory had been spared; Scultetus, the low-born 
preacher, had commanded his men to lay no touch upon 
this sacred place of royal prayer ; and thus, although the 
aureoled figures of saints were mingled with the emblems 
of monarchy in the ornaments of the oratory, they had 
remained scatheless. 

The crimson curtain in the royal gallery was thrust 
aside, and Friedrich, King of Bohemia, looked down and 
saw how his new country's beloved cathedral was turned 
into the shambles of beauty and a fearful picture of out- 
raged reverence. Scultetus saw him and pointed at the 
destruction. 

" As the Lord purged the Temple, so have I cleansed 
this church of the dross of idolatry," he said sternly. 
The wreckers, seeing King Friedrich, paused in their 
abominable work. 

" On, my friends ! " cried Scultetus. " Pull down the 
last vestige of the heathen's worship ! " His glance rested 
on the crucifix. " Ah ! here is work for you ! " he cried. 
" Break me that profane thing of the image- worshippers ! 
Down ! Down ! " 

Among the gentry who had accompanied Scultetus, 
indeed those who had led the work of destruction, were 
six Bohemians of the lesser nobility ; these were Bushuslav, 
Berkha, Budowitz, young Michaelowitz, Berbistorf, and 
Daniel Secreta. Calvinists and sworn enemies of the 
priests, they had joyed in the havoc, but even they hung 
back before the wrecking of the crucifix. It was Bohemia's 
most venerated shrine this great crucifix of St. Vitus, and 
a most beauteous work of the twelfth century. 

" It is pity to break that, master," muttered Berkha 
hesitatingly. " It cannot harm to leave that." 

" You are not earnest for the Faith, sir ! Root and 
branch shall this church be cleansed of the defilement 
of filthy idols," cried Scultetus, and to the masons he 
shouted : " On to your task ! I will pay a double wage 
to those who break down yonder heathen image." His 
words renewed the workmen's ardour, and in an instant 



PRAGUE 191 

they had roped the head of Christ, and sixteen men 
dragged at the cords, while a score hewed and hammered 
at the base of the cross. 

With a thunderous crash the mass of stone fell to the 
ground, and for a moment the wreckers drew back in 
superstitious awe, for the whole church rocked, as if the 
mighty edifice shuddered at the sacrilege. The fall had 
broken the stone cross, and, among the crimson velvets 
of a heap of altar-cloths, the Figure of the Crucified 
lay prone, strangely real and piteous like a newly-slain 
victim. The awestruck workmen stood huddled together, 
but Berbistorf, recovering from his momentary fear, sprang 
forward and touched the prone Figure with his foot. 

" Ha ! " he exclaimed, laughing gruffly. " Ha ! Thou 
who hast claimed to save sinners, prove now Thy power, 
save Thyself ! Ho, ho ! He cannot ! See, comrades, the 
idol is broken down! " Scornfully the blasphemer spurned 
the fallen Christ. " Wretched doll whom fools have 
worshipped ! " he cried, and spat into the tranquil Face 
beneath the crown of thorns. It is well known how wit 
is sharpened by approval, and the workmen's rough 
laughter again inspired Berbistorf. 

" Bring me that image of John," he called ; and two 
score of eager hands obeyed him. The statue of the 
beloved Apostle was dragged from its resting-place against 
the shattered gates of the royal tomb of Bohemia. 

" Here ! lay the thing beside the woman Mary," cried 
Berbistorf ; and as the willing, well-paid hirelings laid the 
statue next to that of the blessed Virgin, Berbistorf rolled 
the sculptured saint against Our Lady's statue, and laugh- 
ing loud, cried out : 

" Ye loved each other upon earth ; there, I've put 
you together again so that ye may be free to love once 
more ! " 

There was a moment's silence wherein the clink of the 
metal rings which held the velvet hangings of the royal 
oratory window was clearly heard. Friedrich, King of 
Bohemia, had closed the curtain, and had disappeared 
from the sight of his supporters, who were doing such 



192 THE WINTER QUEEN 

glorious work for Bohemia and the Faith in the name 
of God. 

Seeing that the King had fled before this insult to 
womanhood in the person of God's Blessed Mother, Scul- 
tetus smiled. Really, his Majesty was too faint-hearted; 
but it mattered not, he, Scultetus, was at hand to battle 
for the pure Faith of Calvin ; and he, at least, would never 
waver, never recoil before God's service. 

The King left the royal oratory, and hurried through 
the long corridors of the rambling palace to the Queen's 
apartments. In the ante-chamber he met Count Schlick 
and Bernard Thurn. Both men were in the grip of 
strong emotion, and Schlick poured forth a stream of 
soft, swift Czech when he saw the king. 

" Sire ! " cried Thurn, silencing his voluble companion, 
for he remembered that Friedrich understood no word of 
Czech, " there is terrible work afoot in the Vitus Church ! 
You cannot know what your preacher is doing, but, for 
God's sake, stop this sacrilege ! It will turn the heart 
of every Bohemian against you. I implore you — " 
Friedrich stopped him with a haughty wave of his hand. 
" My young Lord of Thurn," he said coldly, " you are for 
ever trying to teach me my duty. You forget who I 
am, and also that I am an older man than you ; you 
should learn respect for my riper experience ! " 

"You may be a hundred years older than I, sire," 
cried Thurn hotly, " but I know the Bohemian people 
as you cannot know them yet. The experience of one 
country is useless in another, and your German experi- 
ence cannot aid you in Bohemia. There is no time to 
be lost, sire, I pray you — I pray you, stop this ruthless 
madman, who will wreck your kingdom " 

" Silence, sir ! You speak of your superior in age and 
knowledge!" answered the King pompously. Thurn spoke 
to Schlick in Bohemian. The old man caught the King's 
arm, and addressed him in a choking voice. Friedrich 
looked at him. In spite of himself, he was impressed by 
Schlick's manner. 



PRAGUE 193 

" Translate what tlie Count says," he ordered Thurn. 

" Andreas Schhck tells your Majesty what each Bohe- 
mian will say in his heart to-day when he hears that 
our country is in the hands of a man who knows no 
reverence for Bohemia ! Count Schlick says thus : ' The 
die is cast ! ' " Thurn replied sternly. 

" You are traitors," began the King furiously, 

" Nay, sire, we are no traitors ; but we know that he 
who wounds the trust of Bohemians will receive but half- 
hearted service from them in his dire need," young Thurn 
said. 

" Arrest this gentleman ! " called the King to a guard, 
who stood at the door of the ante-chamber. Thurn 
unfastened his sword-belt, and, kneeling, presented his 
sword to Friedrich. 

With one of those quick changes of mood to which 
the undecided are liable, the King pushed aside the prof- 
fered sword-hilt. 

" Nay ; you meant well. Keep your sword, and learn 
that you cannot browbeat a king," he said grandilo- 
quently, and passed into the Queen's apartments. 

" Alas, for Bohemia ! " exclaimed Schlick. " We have 
chosen a pretty boy who can play at being king in a 
masquerade ; but we wanted either a strong man to rule 
us, or a puppet to obey us. King Friedrich is neither of 
these, and Bohemia is doomed." 

In the town of Prague the news of the wrecking of St. 
Vitus was received with strange indifference. It seemed 
as though Schlick and Thurn had miscalculated the 
people's love for their ancient church, and Friedrich, 
seeing this, felt himself the more secure, more than ever 
the master of his people. They had made no murmur 
against the enforcement of his will in this most vital 
thing. How should they ? he argued, since, having 
chosen a Calvinist for their King, they must have always 
understood that, though as champion of religious freedom 
he would permit the Lutherans, the Bohemian Brethren, 
and even the few remaining Taborites to worship as they 
listed, no such leniency could be shown to Papists. 

N 



194 THE WINTER QUEEN 

How could Friedricli know that lie owed his people's 
calmness to the Domherren ? He did not dream that 
the priests, gliding through the narrow streets, whispered 
patience to the people. Patience ! for had not the Holy 
Father, the Pope himself, said that Friedrich was but a 
king of snows, like to the snow men that children built 
in winter, he and his dominion would melt away and 
vanish in a little time. The priests wished for no prema- 
ture revolt, ending in bloodshed and ultimate submission. 
They waited, knowing that the Imperial army was still 
too far away to aid them ; knowing right well, too, that 
Maximilian of Bavaria's disciplined troops would brush 
away like dust the feeble resistance of the ill-paid, under- 
fed, half-hearted Bohemian army. But the time was not 
yet, and the priests bade the people to wait quietly, and 
they were obeyed ; for though many to whom they spoke 
were Lutherans, from early youth they had known the 
priests, whereas the Calvinists were strangers to them. 
Also, the priests spoke to them in their own tongue — 
that soft, well-beloved language, of which, as the priests 
reminded the people, neither Friedrich, Elizabeth, nor 
their Court knew a single word. 

With full confidence in himself and his prosperity, the 
King left Prague to visit his new dominions in Moravia 
and Silesia. He was accompanied by a fine retinue, and 
by Master Scultetus. It was a triumph to the preacher 
to journey thus through Silesia. He, the son of a Silesian 
peasant, could now exhibit himself to his compatriots as 
the nearest friend, the trusty adviser, the ruler of a king. 
King Friedrich tarried longer than arranged in Silesia, 
and, neglecting Lusatia, returned forthwith to Prague for 
the baptism of his infant son. Once more the Hradcdny 
Palace was the scene of sumptuous banqueting and 
costly rejoicings. And, as a fresh mark of the Bohe- 
mians' confidence, the King's son was proclaimed Crown 
Prince of Bohemia, thus confirming the heredity of the 
Bohemian crown. The people desired the newly chris- 
tened infant, Rupert, to be their Crown Prince ; but in 
this, as in all else, they bowed to the King's will, and the 



PRAGUE 195 

elder brother, Henry Friedrich, was recognised as heir- 
apparent. 

Friedrich was complacent in his prosperity, and he 
wrote James I. a glowing account of the splendour of a 
Bohemian king, reassuring his father-in-law as to the 
stability of his crown, and praising his army — which he 
had not yet inspected. 

The people of Prague were unwearied, it seemed, in 
paying homage to their King. Even the Jews gave 
proof of heartfelt loyalty, and one day in March a deputa- 
tion from the Ghetto waited on their Majesties. A group 
of black-bearded men, clad in long black caftans and high 
black three-tiered hats, kneeled before the King and Queen, 
and presented her Majesty with a beautiful diadem which 
the skilled goldsmiths of the Prague Ghetto had wrought 
in finest gold and enriched with many diamonds and 
faultless pearls. 

King Friedrich was disinclined to be gracious to the 
Jews ; he considered them as an inferior people whom all 
good Christians had the duty to oppress, a swarming race 
which was, very properly, shut into a filthy, overpopulated 
quarter of all great cities ; cringing creatures whom it was 
legitimate to tax heavily; otherwise he deemed them 
beneath the notice of any reputable German. But, for 
once, the Bohemian nobles succeeded in drowning Scul- 
tetus' voice and the dictates of German culture and 
custom, and it was explained to the King that the Jews 
of Prague had ever been allowed a freer existence. They 
had been permitted to hold services in their synagogue 
since the twelfth century, and at his Majesty's own royal 
entrance into Prague, and on the coronation day, they 
had even been allowed the honour of patrolling the streets 
with barrels of water strapped upon their shoulders to be 
used in the event of an outbreak of fire. So Friedrich 
received the Jews graciously, and deigned to accept from 
them, besides the diadem, a donation of ducats. 

Slowly the winter left Bohemia, and spring came to 
icebound Prague. The gaieties at Court were more bril- 
liant than ever. In the sixteenth- century " Hall of 



196 THE WINTER QUEEN 

Homage " there were almost daily grand banquets, and 
in the " German Hall " the courtiers danced each night. 
The English ladies were the queens of the revels. Grace- 
ful, young, sumptuously dressed, how could they be other- 
wise than a revelation of charm to the Bohemian gallants ? 
Unwittingly they rendered their Queen a sorry service, for 
the neglected Bohemian ladies grew jealous, and like all 
jealous women they ascribed their foreign rivals' triumphs 
to unseemly conduct. Mistress Alison Hay dancing the 
couranto with my young Lord of Bustehrad, her fair face 
aflush with youth and gaiety, her satin bodice cut low to 
show her white neck and bosom, seemed to the envious 
Bohemian damsels, sitting unnoticed by the gallants, to be 
a very Phryne ; and my Lady Phyllis Devereux, laughing 
behind her fan and whispering harmless jests to Wratis- 
law or to Duba, was to them a Circe enthralling the fickle 
hearts of men with evil wiles. Of course, the more sour 
the Bohemian ladies looked the less the gallants sought 
them in the dance, and the more brilliantly by contrast 
shone the foreign enchantresses. As for the Queen herself 
there were soon ugly rumours afloat anent her. Bernard 
Thurn was her enamoured slave, " Of course ! " whispered 
the good dames, " as her Christel of Anhalt has gone to 
the army she needs must find another lover." Her 
Majesty's low-cut bodices evoked the disapproval of the 
Bohemian ladies. " Bare-breasted and light-mannered," 
they muttered to each other as the Queen passed them 
pacing the stately Pavyn. It did not mend matters that 
the Bohemian gentlemen were outspoken in their praise 
of the English ladies, or that they angrily repudiated 
their compatriots' insinuations concerning the Queen and 
her Court. Gradually the Bohemian ladies withdrew 
entirely from the Court in the Hradcany. To the royal 
commands they pleaded illness or fatigue or absence at 
their castles in the country. But what cared her Majesty ? 
These dull creatures with their unmodish dress, their 
stuffy bodices high to the neck like to travelling or hunt- 
ing corsages, their heavy, sullen faces and sour looks, were 
better away, her Majesty declared. She did not know how 



PRAGUE 197 

full of fascination those heavy Czechish faces can be if a 
smile touches the lips and lights the brooding, sombre eyes. 

But the Bohemian gallants were assiduous in their 
attendance at Court, and the revelry continued unabated. 

By the end of May the sun beat down fiercely on 
Prague, and the burghers commenced their usual summer 
existence. The hostelries set out hundreds of little tables 
beneath gay-coloured awnings in the streets, and the city- 
bound populace feasted and made merry. In the cool of 
the evenmg an unending stream of loiterers paced the 
chief streets, and hung about in the squares, a laughing, 
chattering crowd. It was the custom for the people to 
bathe in the Moldau beneath the ancient bridge between 
the Two Cities, the " Old Town " and the " Small Side " of 
Prague. One stifling evening the King and a few German 
courtiers chanced to pass that way. Indolently Friedrich 
leaned over the bridge. 

" How cool the water looks ! " he said, " I would fain 
join those bathers ! " 

" Your Majesty could not bathe with such filthy rabble," 
cried Schomberg, aghast. 

" They are not rabble, but my faithful citizens," returned 
the King. " I have a mind to go now, and show them 
that I am indeed their comrade ! " In vain Schomberg 
protested ; Friedrich was set upon it, and passing down 
to the river bank he undressed and sprang into the water. 
Like wildfire the news spread through the crowd of 
loiterers in the city : " The King bathes in the Moldau," 
and to Schomberg's annoyance he saw a stream of on- 
lookers gathering on the bridge, and he heard in their 
laughter both surprise and derision, though he could not 
understand the Czechish words. 

At length the King left the water, and reclothed 
himself on the bank, the crowd laughing and jeering 
meanwhile. With flushed cheeks his Majesty rejoined 
Schomberg and the courtiers. 

" I love my people to know that I am one of them," 
Friedrich said with pompous humility. Schomberg shook 
his head. 



198 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" See ! " cried the King, " with what affection they greet 
me ! " Bowing and smiling he passed, through the crowd, 
in his ignorance of the language mistaking their mocking 
remarks and laughter for affectionate approval. 

Once more Friedrich had shown his lack of under- 
standing of his new people. In Germany, perhaps, his 
unwonted familiarity would have been counted as gracious 
condescension, but the Czechs loved that dignity and 
mystery which comes by the seclusion and aloofness of 
the great. The nobles would be disgusted by the thought 
of their King swimming about beside the barber and the 
apothecary, the tailor's apprentice and the butcher's lad, 
and the people themselves would jeer at the King. This 
young Thurn set forth to Schomberg on the return to the 
Hradcany, and never again did Friedrich bathe in the 
Moldau ; but that one swim had been sufficient to lessen 
the Czechs' respect for their King. Also the gossip con- 
cerning the levity of the Court festivities spread from the 
noble dames' parlours to the burghers and populace. Un- 
remittingly the Domherren worked to depict Friedrich and 
his Court as wanton triflers, and by the summer the flame 
of enthusiasm which had greeted the new King had died 
down and indifference or veiled hostility to the new 
monarchy grew apace. 

Her Majesty Elizabeth knew nothing of the King's 
bathing exploit, for Friedrich, like most weak men, would 
liefer have confessed a crime to the woman he loved than 
have owned to an indiscreet blunder. 

Elizabeth was happy in Prague. Sometimes she smiled 
when she recalled the grim menace which Captain Bell 
had revealed to her at the Heidelberg ball four years since. 
Then it had been held that, an she visited Prague, she 
would be the victim of murder ; yet here she was Queen 
in the very palace where the Empress Anna, it had been 
said, would have done her to death. Ah ! how foolish it 
had all been ! How much easier, less complicated, less 
sombre was life than men's fancy painted it ! All was well, 
had been well, would continue well, she told herself. 

There came a rumour that Spanish troops under Spinola 



PEAGUE 199 

menaced the Palatinate. What foolishness ! Of course, 
they were on their way to the Spanish Netherlands. Had 
not Gondomer, the Spanish ambassador, assured King 
James that this was so ? 

" When an army is bound for a distant land, can it fly 
over an intervening country ? " her Majesty cried when 
Friedrich and his advisers looked grave. How should the 
Spanish King dare to attack the lands of a Prince of the 
Protestant Union ? He would not dare to violate all 
treaties, nor to risk the enmity of England, of Sweden, 
and of Denmark. It was absurd to be alarmed. Yet 
Juliane and the two little ones had best journey to 
Berlin to be out of possible harm's way. But her Majesty 
would not permit her Court to be turned into a collection 
of anxious-faced tremblers before this menace, which was 
probably no menace at all, as she said. Men are easily 
convinced of that which they wish to believe, and King 
Friedrich thrust aside his anxiety and plunged again into 
the gay Court life. He hunted and feasted, danced and 
made merry, and spoke enthusiastically of the future. 

One brilliant summer morning their Majesties and their 
train rode from the Hradcany Palace down the steep lane 
beside the stag park wall towards the river. The Queen 
wore a flowing green-velvet robe embroidered with silver, a 
soft broad -brimmed brown felt hat with a sweeping plume, 
and richly embroidered gauntlets, and such was the mode 
adopted by the ladies who followed her. The King and 
his gallants, too, were attired for the chase in green velvet 
doublets slashed with silver, and soft beplumed felt hats. 
Behind the Court rode an army of huntsmen and stalwart 
falconers, bearing the hooded falcons chained to their wrists. 
The young birds which were not yet fully trained were 
carried by henchmen in green-cloth bags. The kennel- 
master and his men followed, with the graceful, eager 
coursers straining at their leashes and filling the air with 
sharp barks and yaps of pleasure. 

The gallant company clattered along the narrow street, 
and passed on to the Karlsbriicke,the venerable fourteenth- 
century bridge built by the Emperor Charles IV. Here 



200 THE WINTER QUEEN 

was a hurrying crowd : peasants with empty barrows re- 
turning from the market, merchants in sober-coloured 
raiment hastening to their business, men-at-arms in 
their buff-leather tunics, heavy boots with the loose tops 
drawn high above the knee, and small, round, burnished 
helmets upon the undercaps of yellow leather ; here, too, 
were many bearded Jews in their black caftans or gaber- 
dines, and their high three-tiered hats, whence escaped the 
long black hair and the two carefully twisted oily curls, 
one behind each ear. An old woman, wrapped in filthy 
rags, crouched on the coping of the stone bridge balustrade, 
singing a monotonous wailing melody almost Eastern in its 
rhythm and its weird unusual intervals. It was a true 
Bohemian melody, wild and despairing, laden with all the 
luxury of sadness of the Slav soul. The Queen checked 
her horse an instant. 

" Give her a golden piece, Schomberg," she called, " her 
song is so mournful 'twill ring in my ears for an hour." 
She rode on laughing carelessly. Beneath the bridge a 
multitude of unclothed men and women were splashing in 
the river, unsightly old harridans with withered breasts, 
and young women displaymg their bodies with perfect un- 
concern — the thoughtlessness of old custom not of brazen 
indecency ; men of all sorts, young and muscular like 
bronze statues, others old, sere, and yellow, with the flaccid 
flesh pendulous upon the gaunt framework of bone. 

Elizabeth Stuart flushed angrily. " I have desired it 
to be arranged that these naked bathers should not be 
here when I pass over this bridge ! " she cried. The King 
looked uncomfortable. After his own bathing exploit he had 
felt it difiicult to forbid the people to bathe near the bridge. 

" They are very harmless — -" he began hesitatingly. 

" They are very ugly ! " retorted the Queen. " I will 
not have these naked bathers near the bridge ; I will never 
pass this way till they are removed." As she spoke the 
cavalcade rode past the ancient crucifix on the centre of 
the bridge. A thin-faced man in a priest's shabby cassock 
stood near and heard the Queen's words. She had spoken 
in French. 



PRAGUE 201 

Gail}'^ the hunting-party rode through the Old Town 
and out into the forest beyond the city, and, in the amuse- 
ment of the hawking and coursing, Elizabeth soon forgot 
her temporary annoyance. 

Master Scultetus had not accompanied their Majesties 
that day, he had a more congenial task in hand. The 
preceding evening he had received the King's permission 
for the destruction of the crucifix on the Emperor Charles' 
Bridge, and that day he repaired to the town councillors 
to convey his Majesty's commands for the removal of the 
idolatrous image. To his surprise he found the city 
authorities stubborn in their refusal to carry out these 
orders. The crucifix was an ancient landmark, an historic 
relic of Bohemia's beloved Emperor Charles IV. ; the people 
would rise in revolt if it were removed. They assured 
Master Scultetus that it would be unwise to pull down 
this cross, they begged him to spare it ; but the preacher 
insisted, and high words passed in the Rathaus. Finally 
the authorities definitely refused to order the removal of 
the crucifix, and Scultetus returned to the Hradcany 
Palace to brood over his rebuff. He decided that it would 
be best not to acquaint the King of this embroglio. His 
Majesty was both weak and lenient, and might order the 
Bohemians' cherished cross to be spared. 

While Scultetus was pondering, and their Majesties 
were enjoying the hawking, a thin-faced man in a shabby 
cassock was despatching some fifty priests through the 
streets of Prague on a special mission. This mission was 
merely the repeating of two sentences : " Father Wladislas 
heard the Queen order the destruction of the great crucifix. 
She said she would never ride over the bridge until the 
naked bather — so she called the Christ on the Cross — had 
been removed." Into a hundred stifling alleys, up many 
steep, dingy staircases, into burgher's bouse and poor man's 
hovel, the priestly emissaries passed, delivering their mes- 
sage without comment. 

On the morrow at dawn a band of workmen repaired to 
the Karlsbrticke. They were met by a host of defiant men 
who asked their business. The workmen replied that by 



202 THE WINTER QUEEN 

the King's command they had come to take down the 
crucifix. Calmly the spokesman of the rabble, a thin- 
faced man, clad in a sober-coloured tunic, answered that 
the first worker who laid his chisel to the crucifix would 
be a dead man ere the church clocks tolled the hour again. 
The hirelings slunk away. Silently the crowd on the 
bridge waited. Hour after hour they stood in the blazing 
sun guarding the crucifix. Late in the afternoon the city 
authorities appeared and informed the crowd that his 
Majesty had reconsidered his decision, and the crucifix 
would remain where it had stood for three hundred years. 
The people had won a victory over their King, but, as 
the priests reminded them, the light-minded Queen had 
vowed never to pass over the bridge till the " Naked 
Bather" was removed. They must watch whether she 
had repented of her impious saying. If she rode as 
usual over the bridge it would denote that she was 
penitent, but if she avoided it they might know that she 
adhered to her blasphemous vow. 



CHAPTEE XII 

THE KING'S VISION 

" Oh, blindness to the future, kindly given, 
That each may fill the circle marked by heaven ; 
Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, 
A hero perish or a sparrow fall, 
Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd. 
And now a bubble burst, and now a world." — Pope. 

FIERCELY the sun glared down on the city of 
Prague, and the Moldau became a mere thread 
between shelving banks of reeking mud, while a 
stale, sickly stench rose from the dirty streets. Elizabeth 
Stuart remained in the fresher air of the palace gardens 
on the crest of the Hradcin hill. For the most part, when 
she rode out she took her way across the White Moun- 
tain to the stag park around the Star Palace. Once or 
twice she rode to the Karlstein fortress in the hills, and 
young Thurn proudly showed her Bohemia's glory, as he 
called the castle, with its tier upon tier of cyclopic walls. 
He showed her, too, the heavy stones which the besieging 
Hussites had flung into the fortress, but he boasted that 
Karlstein had never been captured. Only treachery could 
open the gates to an enemy, he said. 

" How now, sir ! " cried her Majesty, laughing. " This 
castle is to be garrisoned by a troop of English gentlemen 
who have volunteered in my service. You will not dare 
to suggest that my countrymen could be traitors ? " 

" Nay, madame. I do not know these English gentle- 
men. An it comes to warfare in this country, I trust them 
to match our Czechish bravery," he answered courteously. 

Her Majesty did not share Thurn's enthusiasm for Karl- 
stein, she vowed it was too strong to be alluring, and that 

203 



204 THE WINTER QUEEN 

slie felt melanclioly steal over her in that grim mountain 
scenery. The Star Palace was more to her liking, and 
thither she repaired almost daily. Thus she avoided the 
pestilential smells of the sun-baked city and the ugly sight 
of the naked bathers in the Moldau, for although the river 
was so poor in water, the townsfolk adhered to their 
custom, and splashed in dozens in the muddy water. 

During the summer it was rumoured in Prague that the 
Hungarian crown would be offered to King Friedrich, the 
adventurer Bethlem Gabor, Prince of Transylvania, having 
refused the honour of the throne of Hungary. Though 
Friedrich affected to consider this an absurd rumour, still 
he was flattered thereby. His confidence in himself and 
his splendid destiny was increased, and when a few weeks 
later the news came that Gabor had, after all, accepted the 
Hungarian crown, his Majesty was visibly disappointed. 

One brilliant late August afternoon the King and Queen 
and their Court rode along the crest of the White Moun- 
tain to the Star Palace. The dust lay thick on the narrow 
road, and the scant grass on the long, low hill hardly showed 
against the grey of the arid chalky soil. 

" The White Mountain justifies its name to-day," said 
Elizabeth as she rode along. 

"'Tis dreary enough," replied the King gloomily. He 
was in one of his sombre moods that day, and the feast 
at the Star Palace had been designed by her Majesty to 
cheer him from his ill-humour. 

They drew near to the park. Here all was fresh and 
cool ; the air was fragrant with the resinous scent of the 
fir-trees and a gentle breeze stirred the branches. Her 
Majesty's jennet broke into a canter, and the troop of 
courtiers followed laughing and chattering. They dis- 
mounted at the gate of the Pavilion. 

" Ah ! how cool and sweet ! " cried Elizabeth, as she 
entered the centre hall. " And what have we here to enter- 
tain us ? " she added, for from out a room, which formed 
one of the points of the star, floated a strain of music. 

"I have made bold, your Majesty, to order these 
musicians to play," said young Thurn, " it is a wandering 



THE KING'S VISION 205 

Frencli troupe, and I deemed they might wile away an 
hour for you." Her Majesty smiled approval. In Heidel- 
berg she had often been amused by travelling minstrels or 
playactors, for these itinerant French or English mimes 
wandered from Court to Court in Germany and Italy. 
Especially the English playactors were frequent visitors, 
and thus were Shakespeare's plays, Ben Jonson's masks, 
and even Beaumont and Fletcher's crude dramas, made 
familiar in many lands. But Bohemia was a far-off country, 
beyond the route of these wanderers. Probably the 
Frenchmen had beguiled the tedium of the camps alike 
of Bucquoi, of Mansfeld in Pilsen, and of the chief Bo- 
hemian army on the borders of Lower Austria, and now 
had even penetrated to Prague. 

Elizabeth Stuart hailed with delight the advent of 
something new, for albeit she had made merry in Prague 
she had been keenly aware of the stagnation which always 
broods over the cities which lie far from the main stream 
of life. Through Heidelberg travellers had ridden on 
their road from north to south, but who should journey 
through Prague ? 

" Bid your musicians sing the newest romances of 
France," the Queen cried, as she sat down to the repast 
which was laid out in the central hall. 

The French minstrels sang a few amorous conceits, and 
a many free political ballads, absurd songs about the Con- 
cinis with rough puns on their title, such as that the 
Court of France was white as snow now that I'Encre 
(Concini had been created Marquis d'Ancre) had been 
removed, a grim jest enough when we remember how 
Marie de Medici's favourite had been brutally done to 
death, but the Bohemian Court laughed at the song, so 
all was well. There were pasquinades against Louis XIII. 
and his Due de Luynes, and mention of an intriguing 
priest, a Bishop of Lugon ; again puns : " Ce Richelieu 
a quitte ce riche lieu de Paris," and so on ; all the swift 
mocking wit of Parisian song — gay, light, diverting. Mean- 
while King Friedrich and the courtiers discussed the news 
of the world. 



206 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" I hear our cousin of Brunswick would fain leave mine 
uncle Maurice's service and join us in Bohemia," the King 
said after a time. 

" A fine soldier 'tis said," answered Dohna, who sat near 
the Queen, " but so wild and evil of life that he devastates 
a province more than a whole army." 

" Is it he who at Haarlem threw the intruding husband 
out of the man's own lawful bedchamber window ? " asked 
a Bohemian noble. 

" Ah ! sir," cried the King, laughing, " has that little 
history travelled so far ? Yes, it is Christian of Bruns- 
wick who did that, so the story runs." And now the 
whole company fell to talking of the " mad Halberstadter," 
as Duke Christian was called, from his possession as Ad- 
ministrator or Lay Bishop of the See of Halberstadt. 

Her Majesty sat silent ; during the last few months she 
had heard a plethora of sorry tales concerning her close 
kinsman, and a strong distaste for him had grown up in 
her mind. She well remembered his kindly sister Sophie, 
Countess of Nassau, who had been so friendly to her in 
Holland on the journey from England to Heidelberg some 
seven years since. Also Elizabeth had been told that this 
evildoer's mother — her own aunt, the Duchess Elizabeth 
of Brunswick — had near broke her heart over her son's 
riotous way of living. 

" Is my cousin of Brunswick coming to Prague ? " her 
Majesty interrupted suddenly. Friedrich was laughing 
loudly at some broad anecdote which Dohna had told in 
Latin. The King turned to Elizabeth. 

" Your pardon, ma mie, I did not hear what you said ? " 
he queried. 

" I asked if you would permit this evil kinsman of mine 
to come to Prague ? " she repeated. 

" Why not, madame ? Are you afraid for your damsels' 
honour ? " said the King lightly. 

" Indeed, sire, we should welcome a new gallant ! I 
warrant he would behave well enough to us ; we are not 
like the foolish Mevrouws and Fraules of Holland ! " cried 
my Lady Phyllis Devereux. 



THE KING'S VISION 207 

" Be silent, Phyllis ! " commanded her Majesty. " The 
Halberstadter is no subject for the talk of an honest 
maid." A silence fell on the company for an instant, and 
the French singers burst forth once more into a gay ditty 
which told of virtuous ladies resisting love. Each couplet 
recounted the delicious defeat of womanly resistance to the 
lordship of passion, and finished with the refrain : — 

" Inustiles sont appastz 
Si parfaictz et delicatz 
Parfumes dans leurs atours ! 
Vaine est ceste beaute 
Si oncques n'avez gouste 
Puyssans et vrays amours." 

" So says the Halberstadter too, ma reine ! " cried 
Friedrich, laughing. 

" Such men do not know the meaning of ' Puyssans et 
vrays amours.' As our own poet, Master Shakespeare, hath 
it : ' Call it not Love, for Love to heaven is fled, since 
sweating Lust on earth usurp'd his name,' " she answered. 

" Ah ! learned Queen ! " said Friedrich merrily. " What 
can a poor wight such as I answer to so erudite a lady ? " 
The Queen rose. 

''■ 'Tis time to leave our lords when they are bestowing 
that pitying praise to woman's wit which nearly always 
means, methinks, that in the argument the kings of the 
world have been a trifle worsted ! " 

The laughing company broke up, and the ladies and 
gallants wandered away into the park. Elizabeth Stuart 
and the King lingered near the gate. The Queen spoke 
of the strangeness of a pavilion being thus strongly 
fortified. 

" There is something sombre in the thought that even 
this place, meant for alfresco feasts and courtly gaiety, 
must needs be girt by such ponderous walls," she said 
musingly. 

" We will pull down these frowning defences, dear heart, 
an it pleases you," replied King Friedrich, " and I will 
have flowering parterres planted here next spring. We 
will send for good Maitre De Cans, and he shall make 



208 THE WINTER QUEEN 

a paradise of flowers here for you. ' Roses red and roses 
white, growing for my love's delight,' as Mistress Alison 
Hay's old Scotch song saith." They fell to talking of 
Heidelberg and their beloved garden. Ah, well ! next 
year Master De Cans should turn the Hradcany gardens 
into a marvel of beauty. 

" An we be not attacked by the Emperor ere then " 
said Elizabeth with sudden anxiety. 

" Nay, there may be a short campaign on the borders 
of Lower Austria," he answered reassuringly, " but Bucquoi, 
as heretofore, will always hesitate to attack us. Here we 
are safe enough, for our army is between us and our 
undecided foes. I have no fear for the future." He 
took her hand and kissed the delicate palm gently. " The 
future ! Ah ! the present is enough for me ! " he murmured 
amorously. 

A great stillness lay over the summer evening, and 
the air was heavy with the scent of the sun-kissed fir 
groves. Already the shadows of the trees fell in ever- 
lengthening shapes upon the clipped grass between the 
wood and the pavilion, and the dying sun shone in a 
glory upon the Queen as she stood gazing out towards 
the west. 

" Such wondrous peace ! " she said dreamily. " Some 
day when you are Emperor of all the Protestant lands, 
I shall retreat to the Star Palace and console my old age 
with the memory of our happy days together," she spoke 
jestingly. 

" You would leave me, sweet heart of mine ? " he 
queried. 

" Ah ! Never ! never ! " she answered, suddenly serious. 
" My poor child-lover ! how could I leave you while you 
needed me ? " 

" And I shall always need you," he said. " Without 
you I am nothing ! " She smiled tenderly, yet in her 
heart she wearied because, she being always the stronger 
one in all relations of life, she would have loved to be 
weak ; she was too strong to rest, and she knew it would 
be so infinitely restful to be weak — sometimes. 



THE KING'S VISION 209 

" The shadows grow, dear my lord," she said. " We 
must ride back to Prague. Already the dew is falling. 
See ! " And lifting her green velvet riding-skirt a little, 
she showed him how its hem was wet and how the silver 
braid glittered with the dew. 

They returned to the pavilion, and the huntsman in 
attendance blew a shrill blast upon his horn to summon 
the ladies and their gallants back from their wanderings. 
Like a flight of birds of gay plumage the ladies hurried 
back to the Star Palace. 

" Back to Prague already ? " cried my Lady Phyllis ; 
" but, madame, 'tis mighty pleasant here ! " 

" The dew is falling, my lady ; 'tis high time we were on 
the road," said Amalia Solms primly, though she, too, had 
been making merry and her fair, heavy face was aglow 
with laughter. 

" One more draught of sack, mesdames!" called the King 
gaily. "A stirrup-cup to sustain us on the ride homeward." 

" Let us go up to the western turret and see how beauti- 
ful the White Mountain looks in the red glow of the setting 
sun ! " cried my young Lord of Bustehrad. 

" Well said, my lord ! " laughed Elizabeth Stuart. 
" Come ! we will see this pretty sight while the lackeys 
prepare the goblets for our stirrup-cup." 

The whole company trooped up the broad, shallow steps 
to the first floor of the pavilion. Here the western win- 
dows glittered like fiery jewels in the glory of the sunset. 
From below came the lilt of a song which the French 
minstrels had struck up as envoi to this gay feast. 

" A galliard ! A galliard ! " called the Queen. " Tell 
them to play us a galliard tune ; we will have one dance 
ere the sun sets ! " Young Thurn hurried to give the 
order to the musicians, and right merrily the melody rang 
out. In the rosy light of the dying sun the gems flashed as 
the ladies bowed and pirouetted. It was a graceful throng 
of happy youths and maidens, clad almost alike in green 
velvet and silver braiding. They seemed a troupe of play- 
actors personating the Hunter's Dance at some masquerade. 
There was much laughter, much light jesting. 

o 



210 THE WINTER QUEEN 

Elizabeth Stuart only trod a short measure and then 
retired from the dance. She leaned against the carven 
pillar of the open fireplace and watched the dancers, call- 
ing to them gaily not to be so quickly weary, or to dance 
more swiftly. Presently the King, too, disengaged himself 
from the dancing company. 

" The night falls apace," he said to the Queen. " We 
must soon end your impromptu ball, ma mie." In truth, 
the sun's glow was fading and the casement-panes gleamed 
golden instead of ruby red. 

The King went to the window and stood silent. Sud- 
denly Elizabeth heard him utter a stifled cry. In an 
instant she was beside him. 

" What ails you ? — Friedrich ? — why did you cry out?" 
she said ; but he made no answer, his eyes were fixed, as 
if in horror, on the silent ridge of the White Mountain. 
His cheek had grown deathly pale, and his white lips moved 
as though he counted some advancing enemy. 

" Friedrich — Friedrich — what is it ? " the Queen cried, 
and caught his arm. 

One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. The jig- 
ging rhythm of the galliard rang on, and the swish of 
skirts, the quick sound of dancing feet beat time merrily. 

" Friedrich — beloved ! What ails thee ? " she cried 
again. Now with shaking finger he pointed at the 
deserted hill-land, lying dreaming there in the last rays 
of the dying sun. 

" They fly ! — one — all ! — like madmen — throwing their 
muskets away — there the men-at-arms — see ! Ah ! the 
riders — all — all " 

" Friedrich ! thou art mad ! Oh ! for the dear God's 
sake, stop the galliard ! " she called wildly. " Cease ! Do 
you not see that the King is ill ? " But the dancers did 
not hear her ; they were full of their own mirth, and the 
music and the laughter drowned the Queen's voice ; only 
Amalia Solms, who had fallen out of the galliard — Amalia 
Solms, faithful and inquisitive — came to her side. 

" What has befallen madame ? What is — " she began, 
but her sentence trailed away before the anguish in the 



THE KING'S VISION 211 

King's face. He stood, like one bereft of reason, pointing 
at the silent, deserted country. 

" More — they fly ! The banners are thrown down — the 
horses struggle — God in heaven ! not one company stead- 
fast ! — Yes — yes ! one company fights — they are coming 
hither, to the Star Palace ! — Oh ! merciful Jesu ! they are 
trampled down — " the words came haltingly from his 
blanched lips, yet he told of this horror as one who, watch- 
ing from a tower, sees a battle deployed before him. 

Ever faster rang out the tripping measure of the gal- 
liard. The Queen leaned beside the King, gazing through 
the casement into the gathering gloom, at that still hill- 
land, where she perceived nothing save the infinite calm 
of the ending of a summer's day — but where he saw this 
terrible vision of a degraded army flying in craven panic. 

The galliard ended with a triumph of brisk chords from 
the stringed instruments, and the dancers, laughing and 
breathless, made their final bows. Then seeing the King 
and Queen at the window they gathered round. 

" How good a thought 'twas of your Majesty's to have 
us dance the galliard ! " cried Mistress Alison. 

" Indeed, 'twas best of all this bright day ! " said my 
Lady Phyllis. " But, madame ! " she added anxiously, as 
the Queen turned to her with blanched cheeks and 
anguished eyes, "what ails your Majesty? " 

" Nothing, child," said Elizabeth Stuart, seeing curious 
looks on all the faces around her, " I am right well, but 
the King has had a dizzy fit. Open the window, Amalia, 
and — forgive me, my friends, but I think 'twere kinder 
an you left us alone for a while. A moment's quiet will 
restore his Majesty." There was much dignity in Elizabeth 
Stuart's mien just then — commanding, courteous, calm ; 
though her voice was a trifle unsteady and her bosom 
rose and fell as if she had been running. 

The courtiers withdrew silently, only Amalia Solms 
lingered. " I pray you, if you love me, friend," the Queen 
whispered, " say no word of this. The King was giddy 
from the heat, that is all." Amalia bowed her head and 
went out. 



212 THE WINTEK QUEEN 

The King still stood motionless, gazing into the deepen- 
ing twilight. Amalia Solms had pushed open one side of 
the window, and a cool breath of air wafted in the frag- 
rance of the summer evening. 

" Friedrich," said the Queen in a low voice, " you have 
dreamed an ugly dream. It is some fantasy of an over- 
wrought brain. You are weary, beloved, and have 
dreamed," She laid her arm round him, and leaned her 
cheek against his shoulder. 

" I saw it — God in heaven ! You would not have me 
think myself mad ? I tell you I saw my army in full 
flight ! " he said hoarsely. 

" God gave prophetic illumination to His saints of old," 
she answered ; " He sends no miraculous visions to man 
to-day. No, you are not mad," she even laughed a little, 
though she was trembling, " I saw what you saw " 

" You saw it too, then ? " he cried. " Ah ! thank God ! " 

" Hush," she said soothingly, " I saw a mighty black 
cloud over the White Mountain, and on the bare hill those 
few stunted trees, which, in the half-light, look like hurry- 
ing figures — Friedrich, there was nothing else ! Believe 
me. Ah ! dearling, when have I ever spoken untruth to 
you ? " 

" What did I see, then ? " he asked, like a wondering 
child willing to be consoled, a child who is pathetically 
eager to have the spectre which frightened it shown to be 
but a foolish delusion. 

" You are weary — overwrought with working at State 
matters, and your own mind tricked you out a seeming 
vision. From a cloud and a few stunted trees you made 
a flying army. Look again — the cloud is still there, and 
the twisted trees on the gaunt hillside." The King 
gazed out. 

" Yes," he said slowly, " I see — it was nothing — I have 
dreamed ! " 

She led him away down the broad winding staircase to 
the central hall where the courtiers waited with anxious 
faces. 

" The King is well again ! " Elizabeth cried gaily. 



THE KING'S VISION 213 

" 'Twas nothing, only a moment's dizziness from the heat. 
And now the stirrup cup ; I pledge you all ! Health and 
happiness ! " She took the golden goblet, proffered by 
Thurn on bended knee. 

" Health and happiness ! " she cried again, " and I 
drink to our next galliard in the Star Palace." 

Right merrily they rode back to Prague. Never had 
the King been more debonnair, more gay and full of jest 
and laughter, and Elizabeth Stuart had never seemed 
more carelessly happy. Once she turned in her saddle 
and looked back. A red glow" as of blood seemed to 
lurk behind the gathering blue of night over the Star 
Palace. 

" A v/ild sky," she said lightly. " Strange that after so 
bright a day the evening -should hold so fierce a menace. 
Methinks it is our last ride to the Star Palace for a 
time." 

That night brought riders to Prague, the one a bearer 
of despatches from Germany, the other a messenger from 
France. The German letters informed the King that the 
Princes of the Protestant Union, hearing that Bethlem 
Gabor had concluded an armistice with the Emperor, had 
signed at Ulm a treaty with Maximilian of Bavaria, the 
head of the Catholic League. By this treaty the Pro- 
testant Princes undertook neither to oppose the Imperial 
army in Germany, nor to aid the rebellion against the 
Emperor in Bohemia. In return Maximilian promised that 
the Imperial troops would respect the neutrality of these 
Protestant rulers' domains, including the Palatinate. The 
same messenger, however, brought the news that Spinola 
and his twenty-five thousand Spaniards had commenced 
hostilities in the Palatinate, and were marching on 
Heidelberg. 

The French messenger brought a letter from Louis XIII. 
wherein Friedrich's preferred alliance was answered by 
the assurance of the French monarch's friendly feelings 
towards him and his family, but that his Majesty declared 
himself unable to espouse a cause so closely allied to that 
of the turbulent French Huguenots. He promised to send 



214 THE WINTER QUEEN 

an embassy to Austria to endeavour to effect a recon- 
ciliation between the Emperor and the Bohemian King. 
In case of the failure of this negotiation he owned himself 
bound by State expediency to assist the Emperor in the 
war. 

King Friedrich of Bohemia, thus forsaken by his 
brethren of the Union and by his Hungarian ally, and 
thus politely refused by France, stood alone before the 
giant powers of Europe ; but he was still buoyed up by 
the careless confidence of youthful inexperience, and he 
faced calmly a situation which might well have inspired 
terror and despair in any man, however brave, who had 
realised the overwhelming strength of the forces arraigned 
against him. Friedrich relied upon his army, that army 
which he had never hitherto inspected, that unpaid, ill- 
armed, semi-mutinous, half-starved conglomeration of 
soldiery, captained by inexperienced leaders. 

Thus it fell out that on the day after the merry- 
makings at the Star Palace, King Friedrich set forth to 
join his troops in Southern Bohemia. In the excitement 
and exhilaration of enterprise, applauded by the woman 
he loved for his warlike enthusiasm, he forgot the grim 
warning of that vision on the White Mountain, 

The menace of that wild sky which had lowered over 
the Star Palace was fulfilled, and day after day rain fell 
in torrents over Prague. The Moldau, swelled to angry, 
turbid grandeur, rushed, a frothy, yellow stream beneath 
the slate-like uniformity of gloom in the sullen heavens. 

Elizabeth Stuart set herself to wait. In her gilded 
parlour in the Hradcany she sat hour after hour before 
her embroidery frame, she wrote many loving letters to 
her King, she read, she played with Jacky the monkey. 
Her ladies grew weary and dispirited. Dulness is hard 
to bear when we are young ; but the Queen remained 
resolute in her cheerfulness in spite of physical heaviness, 
for she was again enceinte. 

The King wrote that he deemed it fortunate he had 
joined his army so promptly, for he had found dissension 



THE KING'S VISION 215 

and disorder which, of course, he doubted not he could put 
right immediately. The generals themselves were dis- 
satisfied, but chiefly each complained of the undue ad- 
vancement in rank which had been accorded to his 
compeers. Mansfeld, still sulking in Pilsen, had sent a 
request which was practically an insolent demand to be 
named Field-marshal. Thurn claimed that as he had led 
the army for many months he could not be called by a 
lesser title than Mansfeld, and certainly he refused to be 
subordinate to Hohenlohe, who also was created Field- 
marshal. Solms considered that his dignity forbade him 
to be second in command under Mansfeld, even though 
the latter, in point of fact, being mewed up in Pilsen took 
no part in the operations of the main army. Old Christian 
of Anhalt stormed and raged and quoted at length every 
writer on military tactics, but this did not mend matters. 
The King solved the question with the greatest ease. He 
made Mansfeld, Thurn, Schlick, Hohenlohe, Solms, all 
General Field-marshals, and gave them absolute command 
over their troops, of course, all under old Christian of 
Anhalt, commander-in-chief. 

On paper the Bohemian army was indeed formidable, 
and counted over twenty-one thousand men ; but such 
small accidents as the death of several hundred soldiers 
from disease, or the casualties arising from a dozen 
skirmishes, had not been noted for many months — and 
this for a most excellent reason ; for, as each general drew 
from Prague the payment per head for his soldiers, it was 
natural that the absence, by death or desertion, of a 
soldier was a substantial pecuniary gain for the general. 
Also every commander drew double, and sometimes triple 
and quadruple pay, for one and the same man was often 
general of an army corps, colonel of a regiment, and captain 
of a company. 

Old Anhalt, honest and incapable, full of long speeches 
on the theory of warfare, thoroughly versed in the writings 
of military strategians, was helpless before this embroglio ; 
and when, in the councils of war, the generals quarreled 
and abused each other, the old Duke only added to the 



216 THE WINTER QUEEN 

uproar by thundering commands for obedience and order. 
Chris tel of Anhalt and several of the younger men, seeing 
the hopelessness of achieving universal order in this unruly 
army, had laboured only to perfect their own regiments. 
And the sight of these few well armed, carefully trained 
troops again inspired the King with confidence. Like the 
inexperienced stage-manager of a company of unprofes- 
sional playactors, he believed that the mistakes of the 
rehearsal would vanish automatically when the real drama 
was played. 

Yet he wrote to implore the Queen to seek a surer 
refuge than Prague. Warfare was a strange, capricious 
playmate, and he would fain know his beloved to be far 
off from any possible danger. 

Over the tedious life at the Hradcany this warning 
lowered like another cloud. What ! was there danger 
as well as dulness ? the ladies cried, but Elizabeth Stuart 
silenced them with proud words. If they feared danger 
let them begone; she, for her part, would remain in 
Prague. All had been well and would be well. 

They came and told the Queen that the people in the 
city were beginning to murmur. They said that there 
was anxiety, nay, fear in the Hradcdny Palace. It was 
whispered that the Queen was preparing for flight. Ah ! 
where had vanished the gay doings, the masquerades, and 
dancing, they asked mockingly ? The Queen was stricken 
with terror ; they had heard it from the lackeys ; all the 
town knew it. 

" I ! stricken with terror ? God's life ! they know me 
ill ! " cried the Queen ; and her ladies remembered how 
it had been said that the dauntless spirit of Elizabeth of 
England often flashed up in the manner of her god -child 
Elizabeth Stuart. 

So once more the Hradcany rang with the merry strains 
of the galliard and the pavyn, and, albeit there were few 
gallants to take part in the figures, the ladies danced to- 
gether and gaiety seemed to have returned to the Bohemian 
Court. Of course, the citizens professed themselves dis- 
gusted at such levity, when battle and pillage were so 



THE KING'S VISION 217 

near, but unwittingly they were reassured thereby, for if 
the Queen was thus confident, surely there could be no 
grave cause for anxiety. 

Then a rumour spread in Prague that Prince Hal had 
been secretly conveyed away. She feared for her child, 
then, this Queen who feared naught for herself ? There was 
tumult in the city, and a mob surged up to the castle gates. 

Elizabeth Stuart bid the guards let in the crowd. She 
met them alone, unguarded save by her bevy of ladies ; 
and standing beneath the portico of the Emperor's build- 
ing, she lifted the baby Rupert in her arms to show them 
that she had not feared for him. Then she made a 
Bohemian gentleman translate these words : " The Queen 
bids you be of good cheer ; for, though she does not keep 
all her jewels in one casket, yet she must have every con- 
fidence in the safety of that treasury where she trusts this 
dear jewel of hers." 

She made a grand picture standing there beneath the 
sculptured stone portico. She wore no hat ; there were 
pearls and diamonds in her auburn hair. Her gown, as 
usual, was of viol-brown satin, her filmy lace ruff framed 
her delicate proud face with the haunting Stuart smile on 
the fresh lips and in the great sombre eyes. 

The rabble shouted in the enthusiasm Avhich her proud, 
fearless beauty inspired, shouted until the baby Rupert, 
affrighted, raised a wailing cry. Then the Queen kissed 
him, and laughing, drew back into the Palace, And the 
rabble returned to the Old Town roaring songs of loyalty. 

" Wait ! " said the Domherren, gliding among them. 
" She has never crossed the Karls Bridge again. There 
are no more bathers to disgust her ; the only one is the 
Naked Bather on the Cross. Him she will not pass ! 
Perchance she will yet be driven by the Imperial troops 
over the bridge." 

Sullenly the populace waited through the dreary, wet 
autumn days. For the Czech, like most Slavs, is a being 
at once fiery and apathetic. He can be stirred to a very 
flame of effort, be delirious with enthusiasm, and then 
suddenly he will sink into a condition of hopeless despair, 



218 THE WINTER QUEEN 

a state of mind wherein he will nurse his melancholy and 
enjoy it. He is a man full of poetry, idealistic as a young 
girl, fantastic, enthusiastic — yet sensuous, ease-loving, 
fatalistic, unstable, capable of a sudden indiiference which 
he masks to his own vision by his poetic melancholy, ex- 
cusing his changes of mood by haunting suspicions which 
he has not the energy to dispel by investigation. 

Elizabeth Stuart mistook the apathy of the Praguers ; 
she believed their indifference to be calm steadfastness, 
and she wrote to the King that their citizens were quiet, 
confident, and loyal. Nevertheless, she ordered the con- 
tinuance of such gaieties as were possible in that Court 
bereft of gallants, for she deemed that hereby the people's 
sense of security would be maintained. 

In spite of these seeming gaieties the cloud of anxiety 
in the Hradcdny Palace grew darker, and, though her 
Majesty professed to be confident in the Bohemian 
army's ultimate success, the relentless advance of the 
Imperial forces into Bohemia made even her brave heart 
quail with apprehension. True, it was known that in 
the Imperial army there reigned discord between the 
Generals Maximilian of Bavaria and Bucquoi ; also that 
the invaders were constantly delayed by the tardy arrival 
of the provision carts from Austria and Bavaria. Further 
came the good news that the greater number of the 
courtiers who had followed Maximilian from Bavaria, 
finding the prevalence of illness and the discomfort of 
camp-life little to their taste, had withdrawn from their 
Duke's side and had returned to Munich. But all this, 
though of course agreeable hearing for the Court of 
Prague, did not hinder the inexorable forward march of 
the allied army, Budweis had capitulated with astound- 
ing alacrity; seven thousand men were marching across the 
Bohemian Forest from Bavaria to reinforce Maximilian ; 
three thousand fresh troops were reported to be on the 
way from Wiirzburg to join the invaders, the Elector of 
Saxony held Lusatia ; and from Poland reinforcements 
were hurrying to the Imperialists. Alas ! the invading 
host was like a river fed by a hundred streams, gathering 



THE KING'S VISION 219 

volume as it rolled irresistibly onward, whereas tlie 
Bohemian army was a stagnant lake into which no fresh 
water flowed. 

Then came tidings that Mansfeld was in treasonable 
communication with Duke Maximilian ; it was whispered 
that a hundred thousand florins had changed hands — 
and that Mansfeld would remain neutral in Pilsen. 

Passionately her Majesty cried out she did not credit 
such villainy, but the brave words died on her lips when she 
remembered how Mansfeld had always appeared to her a 
harbinger of ill-omen ; already on that night in Heidel- 
berg when she had seen him slink into the castle, it had 
seemed to her that there was some menace to her life's 
joy in this misshapen, sturdy, sombre condottiere. 

Mansfeld explained his conduct to the King. He pre- 
tended that his apparent treason was but a ruse to gain 
time. Fiercely old Anhalt demanded the dismissal of the 
dishonest adventurer and the substitution of another 
leader for the Pilsen division ; yet Mansfeld succeeded in 
convincing Friedrich, who believed that personal animosity 
prompted Anhalt. 

Slowly but inexorably the Imperial army swept on- 
wards. The small township of Pisek was taken, neither 
man, woman, nor child was spared ; unutterable horrors 
were perpetrated ; like demons the mercenary soldiers 
rioted in a very fury of blood-lust, rejoicing in the 
ghastly shambles they had made of the little city. The 
Cossacks, as the people called the Poles, were matched in 
their delirium of cruelty by the raging of Bucquoi's own 
men. Steadily the Imperialists advanced. Then towards 
the middle of October the Bohemians saw their country 
covered by a vast white mantle. An early fall of snow 
had come to their rescue. Surely the invaders would 
retreat ; for, cut off from Bavaria and Austria by the deep 
snowdrifts in the hills, they would not risk a winter of 
starvation. For an instant even Maximilian wavered. 
Bucquoi counselled retreat. 

One night of sudden rain, and the snow vanished, 
leaving sodden fields and dripping swamps, desolation 



220 THE WINTER QUEEN 

and added misery for both armies. But there was 
nothing now to hinder the invaders from their career of 
rapine and devastation, nothing save the Bohemian army. 

There had been many skirmishes, sometimes won by the 
Imperiahsts, sometimes by the Bohemians, but no actual 
battle had taken place. The commanders of both armies 
hung back, advanced, avoided each other, deployed, in 
fact amused themselves by showing off what experienced 
strategians they all were according to the rules of theoretic 
warfare. The Bohemian generals believed that the Im- 
perialists meant to continue this dilatory game, and it 
was only towards the end of October when the entire 
enemy, raising camp, commenced forced marches towards 
Prague, that Christian of Anhalt and King Friedrich 
realised Maximilian's intention. Promptly the Bohemians 
drew together, and succeeded in blocking the invader's 
way. A decisive battle seemed imminent. The Bohe- 
mians held Rakonitz and a long rise of wooded ground, a 
splendid position offering little inducement for the 
Bavarians to attack. Nevertheless they stormed the hill, 
but were easily repulsed and fled in disorder. 

The following day a heavy mist prevented either army 
from taking action ; but on the 30th of October, the mist 
having cleared, a sharp engagement took place, and as 
Christian of Anhalt considered his possession of the hill 
unimportant, the Bohemians retreated in good order to- 
wards Prague, and took up a commanding position on the 
rise of a wooded slope. 

In the Imperial camp it was recognised that their 
enemy, though they could claim no victory, had at least 
scored a strategic success by succeeding in retreating to 
so strong a position. Bucquoi had been severely wounded 
during a reconnoitring expedition ; also the provision-wag- 
gons from the south not having arrived, it was determined 
to abandon the projected immediate advance on Prague. 

It was now that King Friedrich resolved upon return- 
ing to the Hradcdny Palace for a few days. The enemy 
seemed paralysed by indecision ; the Bohemian army was 
in a dominant position ; all was well and would be well. 



THE KING'S VISION 221 



He had heard that Ambassadors from James of England 
had arrived in Prague, and 
Stuart for over two months. 



had arrived in Prague, and — he had not seen Elizabeth 



There was rejoicing and gaiety in the Hradcany Palace, 
the King brought a train of young gallants with him, and 
once more merriment reigned supreme. Yet her Majesty 
regretted the absence of Ritter Christel, of young Thurn, 
and Mao-nus of Wirtemberg. 

" They could not leave their companies, dearling," the 
King said. 

" Is there danger, then ? " she cried. " If we are indeed 
threatened, why are you here, dear my lord ? " 

" Nay, there is no risk," he answered. " The enemy 
has been repulsed. Bucquoi will make a feint of attack, 
and according to his custom, and the usage of warfare, 
he will then retreat into a well-ordered camp for the 
winter. By the spring all will be arranged peacefully, and 
we will summon Master De Caus to make our gardens 
fair ! Your Christel, Thurn, and the rest of your Majesty's 
mighty army of devout lovers shall return, and we will 
have a merry Court." 

They Avere standing together at the window of the 
Queen's withdrawing-room, overlooking the Stag Park. 
The swallows flew and circled in the still air, uttering 
their sharp, quick notes. Below clustered the roofs of 
palaces and burghers' dwellings, and deep in the valley 
the Moldau surged in sullen grandeur. The sun had 
won through the clouds for an hour, and had gilded the 
old town in the distance to the likeness of a magic city, 

" It seems as though the clouds were banished from 
us," the Queen said ; " you have brought back sunshine 
with you, Friedrich. Ah ! I was weary of the o'er- 
darkened days ! " 

" Yes," he answered, " our time of anxiety is almost 
past — the enemy will melt away before our army like the 
clouds before the sunrays. Kiss me, dear heart ! " he 
whispered. " Ah ! life is full of happiness, and the future 
is like a radiant dream to me ! " 



CHAPTER XIII 

THE WHITE MOUNTAIN 

" Dreimal unselig Volk, dein Leid 

Bewegt kein Herz mehr, dass es weine. 

Es ist ein Leid aus alter Zeit 

Und gleicht bemoostem Leichensteine. 

Ruhmlos zieht durch die Welt dein Gram." 

IT was Saturday night, the 7th of November. The 
moon shone white and wan over the drenched hill- 
land where lay the Bohemian army. A sudden 
advance of the Imperial forces had made Maximilian of 
Bavaria's intent clear to old Christian of Anhalt ; he had 
at length realised that the Imperialists were bent upon 
pushing forward to Prague itself. By forced marches the 
Bohemians had succeeded in outreaching the enemy. By 
detours over rough, marshy ground, and through dense 
fir-woods, Duke Christian had led his men, outskirting 
the Imperialists, who marched on the main road direct 
towards Prague. Now the two armies faced each other, 
the Bohemians on the crest of the White Mountain, the 
enemy below in the valley. Duke Christian had scored 
another strategic success, for not only had the Bohemians 
the advantage of their position on the higher ground, but 
the small river, the Scharka, with its surrounding swamps, 
formed a natural barrier between them and the Imperi- 
alists. But the Bohemian soldiers, badly fed, ill paid, 
meagrely clothed, insufficiently armed, were worn out by 
the fatigue of those two days and nights of strenuous 
advance, and on this Saturday night they slept like dead 
men beneath the moonlight. The camp-fires burnt low ; 
the sentries moved wearily on their beats ; damp, chill 
mists rose from the valley where fitfully the enemy's fires 
twinkled. 

222 



THE WHITE MOUNTAIN 223 

Not six miles away the King made merry in Prague — 
not six miles, and yet the city was absolutely cut off from 
the army. A messenger whom Duke Christian had sent 
imploring for ammunition, for clothing for the shivering 
soldiery, and for fresh rations, had returned saying that 
it was almost impossible to win through the disorder of 
the baggage column which had been sent on to seek 
safety nearer Prague. The city gates were closed. 

The night wore on. That abiding terror, the expecta- 
tion of a sudden onslaught of yelling hordes of Cossacks, 
had not come to disturb the deathlike stillness of the 
Bohemian camp. The weary outposts saw the first faint 
lightening of the sky, and the dawn came grey and cold, 
shrouded in a thick mist. Perhaps the armies were 
doomed to another day of inaction, bound by the all- 
pervading mist as by a giant, paralysing hand. God 
alone knew what the men had suffered before they had 
begun their desperate march, when they had waited not 
knowing what that dense, opaque veil hid from them, not 
knowing how near death lurked unseen. 

But this agony was spared the armies, for on that 
Sunday morning, November 8th, towards nine of the 
clock, a light breeze sprang up and the mist lifted. 
Immediately there was a stirring in the camp in the 
valley. A squadron of cavalry advanced and occupied a 
hillock at the foot of the long sweep of the White Moun- 
tain. Instantly the Bohemian cannon thundered forth a 
warning; but it was little more than a menace, for the 
shots flew harmless over the enemy. Destiny willed that 
Christian should make no further use of this strategic 
mistake of the enemy. The cavalry on the hillock could 
easily have been cut off from the Imperial army, their 
advance having been too rapid ; yet Christian, though he 
caused his cannon to play upon the hillock, did not seize 
the opportunity of annihilating the squadron, and the 
Bavarian General Tilly was able to bring up troops to 
stop the gap between the advanced guard and the main 
army. 

The Bohemians were posted in two lines reaching from 



224 THE WINTER QUEEN 

the south-west towards the wooded park of the Star Palace 
on the north-east. The Hungarian cavaby, that semi- 
barbarous troop upon which the Bohemians counted to 
oppose the Cossacks ^ of the Imperial forces, was placed 
behind the left wing beyond the range of the enemy's 
guns, for though the Hungarians were capable of carrying 
all before them in a furious charge, they were so gun-shy 
that it was useless to order them to stand steadfast if the 
enemy's cannon played on them while they waited the 
signal to charge. The Bohemian army was thus drawn 
up ready for battle. 

The Bavarian corps now advanced to cross the river 
Scharka, over which there was but one narrow bridge. 
They were impeded by the deep swamps, and a certain 
disorder reigned. The main army under Bucquoi, as 
usual, hung back, and thus there was a good opportunity 
for the Bohemians to sweep down from their higher 
ground and divide the enemy's forces. 

Old Anhalt and Field-Marshal Hohenlohe stood to- 
gether. They both held large parchment sheets, and were 
deep in a discussion concerning the strategic necessity 
of this or that tactical movement, which they illustrated 
by means of the well-drawn plans on the parchments. 
Count Schlick and a Colonel von StubenvoU rode up to 
the field-marshals, 

" Sir ! " cried StubenvoU, " give me leave to charge 
with my cavalry ! I see a sure way to victory ! If we 
can separate the Bavarian army corps from Bucquoi's 
men, the day is ours ! " 

Anhalt hesitated. He glanced at the diagrams on the 
parchment. 

" There is no time to be lost ! " cried Schlick eagerly. 

" Gentlemen, your plan is good. On, then, and cut off 
the enemy's advanced guard," said Duke Christian. He 
was doubtless an incompetent commander, but he was a 
brave man, and the dashing;- Moravian StubenvoU's ardour 
appealed to him. 

" Gently, gently! my lord," cried Hohenlohe. "I, too, 

^ The popular name for the Polish riders. 



THE WHITE MOUNTAIN 225 

am Field-Marshal of this army. I, too, have a word to 
say ! You are for ever counselling attack ! Attack ! 
attack ! and abandon this commanding position ! If this 
charge is made, our men will be cut off from us. We 
shall be forced to advance to their rescue, then we shall 
be in the valley. See, my lord ! Here on paper I can 
show you " 

" There is no time, my lord. I pray you give me the 
command to charge," urged Stubenvoll anxiously. 

" Be silent ! You do not understand tactics," growled 
Hohenlohe. 

" Have I permission ? Duke of Anhalt ! Give the 
word ! Soon it will be too late ! " cried Stubenvoll im- 
patiently. 

" In truth, it would be contrary to the teaching of 
Mendoza, the greatest of the Spanish military writers. 
No, do not charge ; I cannot give the order," Anhalt 
answered slowly. Stubenvoll turned away. 

" The day is lost," he said sadly. 

The Bohemian guns thundered on harmlessly, filling 
the air with smoke and stench. The battle had but com- 
menced, and it was noon. 

The Imperial advanced guard stormed the hill, easily 
avoiding the ill-directed fire of the Bohemian cannon. 

" Too fast," muttered Anhalt ; " they will break into dis- 
order when they reach the summit ! Bucquoi will recall 
them ; a good tactician will never attack under such un- 
favourable conditions. This is only a feint." He glanced 
along his own lines. A formidable foe certainly — serried 
rank upon serried rank of pikemen, arquebusiers, cavalry. 

But the Imperialists did not fall into disarray. They 
reached the high, ground and promptly ranged into line, 
while behind them two Walloon regiments advanced and 
formed up in good order. 

Now Solms' Palatine regiment, along with Bubna's 
Czechish cavalry, charged. Their first onslaught was 
successful; the Imperial advanced guard, spent by the 
rapid ascent of the steep slope, fell back in some confusion, 

p 



226 THE WINTER QUEEN 

and for an instant the Walloons also wavered. Without 
hesitation four German squadrons, under General Tiefen- 
bach, rode from the valley to reinforce the leading troops. 
On the Bohemian side Bubna's Czechs made a second 
charge, which was quickly repulsed. Anhalt immediately 
commanded the Thurn infantry to attack. This regiment, 
some thirteen hundred strong, and composed of the veterans 
of the Bohemian forces, was regarded as the pattern for the 
entire army. They advanced steadily to within two hun- 
dred paces of the enemy, then, like a gust of wind rippling 
through a wheat-field, sudden panic ran from line to line 
and they halted — one man turned — another — fifteen — a 
hundred. Throwing away their muskets they fled wildly, 
knocking down the soldiers behind them. A few fired 
aimlessly in the air, or over their shoulders ; then, caught 
by the contagion of fear, the whole regiment joined the 
stream of fugitives. The only men killed were those 
struck by stray bullets or trampled down by their own 
comrades. The enemy had remained immovable. 

Seeing his most trusted warriors flying without strik- 
ing a blow, Anhalt stood aghast, hardly believing the 
evidence of his own eyes. The whole left wing of the 
Bohemian army was in confusion, and the battlefield 
seemed peopled with a mass of frantic, struggling, flying 
figures. Anhalt's own regiment, six companies of cavalry, 
remained intact. He commanded them to charge, and 
they commenced their advance without hesitation; but 
wheeling round suddenly, they broke line, fell into disorder, 
and fled without attacking the enemy. Anhalt galloped 
after some of the deserters : " Back, you cowards ! " he 
cried furiously. " Back ! or I shoot you like the mad 
dogs which you are ! " But the fugitives paid no heed, 
each man seemed only bent upon outstripping his com- 
rades in the race from the battlefield. 

Bubna's cavalry had been thrown into confusion by the 
flight of Thurn's infantry. Desperately the officers en- 
deavoured to reform the broken lines, but the rearing and 
struggling horses were beyond their terror-stricken riders' 
control. A few hundred soldiers obeyed the command to 



THE WHITE MOUNTAIN 227 

charge, but finding themselves immediately involved in 
the stampede of the Anhalt regiment they, too, turned and 
fled. In their rush they galloped into two companies of 
the King's Guard and a troop of Bohemian cavalry. The 
former were thrown into confusion and dispersed ; while 
the latter, infected by the panic, joined the headlong 
race oiF the battlefield. 

The infantry of the second line, under young Thurn, 
flung themselves into the melde, but were routed with 
severe loss. Hohenlohe's and Kaplir's regiments were 
ordered to advance. During several months these troops 
had shown signs of insubordination, even of open mutiny. 
They now made a half-hearted movement forward, then, 
throwing their weapons in the air, they fled without firing 
a shot. The left wing of the Protestant army was de- 
stroyed. 

The battle had lasted but one half-hour, and it seemed 
already lost to the Bohemians. The enemy was in full 
pursuit of the fugitives, and the dastards were reaping 
the reward of their cowardice, for the Imperialists mas- 
sacred them like a herd of defenceless sheep. 

Then the tide turned. Young Christian of Anhalt, who 
had stood waiting for the command to advance, could bear 
the inaction of obedience no longer, and at the head of his 
six hundred mounted arquebusiers he charged the pursuers 
impetuously. The Imperial bugles rang out, the pursuers 
and as many troops as could be recalled from the melee, 
formed up into line and faced Christel's men, who, after 
their charge, had quickly returned and had also fallen into 
line. They opened a steady fire upon the Imperialists, 
volley after volley, with such good effect that the enemy 
retreated, leaving a ghastly row of writhing wounded and 
of dead men to testify to the Bohemians' prowess. A cry 
went up : " Victory ! The Papists run ! " 

A detachment of Spanish Horse thundered up the hill 
and attacked Christel's arquebusiers, but they were re- 
pulsed, and, torrent-like, the arquebusiers burst through 
the wavering Spaniards and fell upon the left infantry 
square of the Imperial first line. It was a furious hand- 



228 THE WINTER QUEEN 

to-hand combat. The Bohemians, despite their in- 
ferior numbers, excited to dauntless valour by Chris- 
tel's example, drove back the Imperial infantry, broke 
through their ranks, scattered them, and put them to 
flight. Bohemian reinforcements poured down to Christel's 
aid, and at this moment the Hungarians appeared on the 
hill's crest ready to charge. The whole Imperial division 
raised a cry that all was lost, and in an instant they were 
flying as wildly as the Bohemians had run a few minutes 
before. 

The shouting of the Bohemian army : " Victory ! 
Victory ! " added to the terrible clamour of the battle ; 
the squeals of the wounded horses ; the thick sobs of the 
dying, choking out their last breath through the bloody 
foam at their stiffening lips ; the groans of the wounded, 
the clash of arms, the rumble of cannon, and the cracks of 
the pistol shots. 

Suddenly, dominating all this horror of sound, came 
the deafening howl of the Cossacks who swept into the 
melee, trampling the wounded, spurning the dead, like a 
horde let loose from hell itself The Hungarians on the 
hill, without waiting for the Cossacks to get up to them, 
turned and fled, the enemy upon their heels. The Cos- 
sacks caught up, not only the Hungarians, but also the 
fugitive Kaplir infantry, and mowed them down as though 
they had been blades of grass reaped by a scythe. 

Christel gathered his troopers together and attacked 
again and again. Wherever the fight was thickest the 
Imperialists saw that slight figure on the chestnut charger, 
that boyish face with the radiant blue eyes which held 
a glint of steel despite their almost childlike candour; 
wherever the danger was fiercest they saw that glittering 
helmet with the azure ribbon which Elizabeth Stuart had 
given to her Bitter Christel six years since at the Heidel- 
berg tourney. Already his left arm hung limp and use- 
less at his side, and he guided his horse with the pressure 
of his knees ; already his breastplate was smeared with his 
blood, and the blue scarf across it was stained and torn. 
His horse, too, was bleeding from a dozen gashes, but 



THE WHITE MOUNTAIN 229 

Christel's voice fell sweetly on the brave beast's hearing. 
Tenderly, in the midst of this horror, he spoke : " Come 
friend, courage ! On ! " and the horse gave that answer 
which is grander than the speech of man; the answer 
which is an animal's devotion and obedience to him he 
loves. 

" On ! comrades ! Men of Anhalt, on ! For the honour 
of Bohemia ! " Christel called, and the Imperialists around 
him, six men to each one of his, thundered back the 
war-cry of the Catholic forces : " Maria ! Maria ! " Mary, 
the blessM Mother of God, they called ; and, in truth, 
Christel's battle-cry was also an invocation to the saint 
his soul adored, for when he cried, " On ! for the honour 
of Bohemia ! " sure he meant " For the honour of Eliza- 
beth Stuart." Perchance the Mother of God smiled 
down from heaven on him, knowing that a man who 
loves a woman thus purely, gives a perfect homage to 
the Queen of all womanhood. 

Desperately he fought, and faithfully his men followed 
him. Then there came a puff of smoke close to him, 
and he made a despairing gesture with his dripping 
sword. Once more, but faintly, he cried : " On — on — 
for the honour — " and swayed in his saddle. An arque- 
busier tried to hold him up, but he sank limply back- 
wards. With a smile, which told how his thoughts were 
far from that scene of carnage, his head fell back, and, 
his lips still whispering weakly : " For — Bohemia — and 
— the — Queen — " he fell to the bloodstained earth. 

A flood of fresh troops — Walloons, Spaniards, Aus- 
trians, Neapolitans, Bavarians — charged impetuously, and 
Christel's men were trampled under. The battle was 
lost, as far as the left Bohemian wing and the centre 
were concerned. There still remained a portion of the 
right wing, which had only been desultorily engaged by 
the Bavarian division of the Imperial army. The White 
Mountain rose steeply on the north-west, and here the 
Bohemian cannon had effectually hindered the enemy's 
advance ; but now the Bavarians, having succeeded in 
scaling the hill, attacked the right wing, while the 



230 THE WINTER QUEEN 

Walloons and Spaniards from the eastward threatened 
the left division of the Bohemian centre. Here the 
Bohemians faced the Imperialists coolly, and both ranks 
of combatants formed up in good order. The Bohemians 
attacked in the ancient mode of the caracole, which 
means that they advanced at a hand-gallop, and, riding 
along the enemy's foremost rank, discharged their pistols 
at close range. It was the usual attacking method of 
the warfare of a hundred years earlier, but it was useless 
before the weapons of the day. Many caracolers were 
shot down by the Imperialists' well-directed fire, a number 
were unhorsed and taken prisoner, while the rest galloped 
away in confusion. 

The remaining Hungarians posted near the wall of 
the Star Palace, seeing the Bohemian right wing thus 
in disorder, left the field without striking a blow. Old 
Christian of Anhalt and sixteen gentlemen found them- 
selves cut off by the stream of fugitives from the few 
Bohemian regiments which stood steadfast near the 
wall of the Star Palace Park, while the enemy drew 
dangerously near. Duke Christian turned his horse 
towards Prague. 

" Gentlemen," he said brokenly, " the day is lost ! 
Let us ride to guard the King. God in heaven ! we 
must bid him escape before it is too late." With bowed 
head the aged commander rode off the battlefield. 

The day was indeed lost, but there still remained a 
company of gallant men awaiting death in the Star 
Palace. Here, where but three months since Elizabeth 
Stuart had danced the galliard, and, where the tapestries 
still decked the walls beneath the delicate designs of the 
Renaissance frieze, five hundred gentlemen of the King's 
Guard under Duke William of Weimar were preparing 
to sell their lives dearly. King Friedrich's own banner 
was in their keeping, and no one should say that they 
had failed in their sacred trust. In the narrow space 
between the outer wall and the pavilion they planted the 
great yellow velvet standard emblazoned with that green 
cross which symbolised hope for the Protestant cause. 



THE WHITE MOUNTAIN 231 

Gathering round their commander, they awaited the 
Imperialists' onslaught. Brave men they were, for the 
most part young Bohemian nobles who had made merry 
in the Star Palace here when Elizabeth Stuart had 
held her Court of laughter and gaiety, and here they 
were to die. 

" Gentlemen of the Guard ! " cried William of Weimar, 
" I would we had a cup of sack wherein to pledge her 
Majesty this day ! We have no wine, so let us salute 
the Queen with our swords — we shall die the easier for 
having paid her our last homage ! " With a whirr of 
steel the swords flashed from the scabbards. 

" Gentlemen ! " cried the Prince again, " the Queen ! " 
and five hundred men stood motionless at the salute as 
light-hearted, as debonnair and smiling, as though they 
had stood before Elizabeth Stuart, queen of revelry at 
some gay tourney. 

" To your posts ! " called Duke William, and they 
took their appointed places around the walls. They 
saw how the enemy overwhelmed the few regiments 
beyond in the park. The stand was feeble ; but who 
could blame a handful of troops if they quailed before 
the attack of ten thousand better armed adversaries? 
Yet until then a little flame of hope had flickered in 
each heart in the Star Palace. 

Furiously the Neapolitans stormed the outer wall ; in 
vain the troopers of the King's Guard behind the walls 
shot them down with unerring aim, for each dead man 
three living avengers sprang forward. They scaled the 
walls, the first comers to instant death ; but alas ! how 
can five hundred men resist many thousands ? 

" Into the palace ! Save the King's standard ! " roared 
Duke William. Frantically they rushed back with the 
yellow flag held high. They were in the palace — they 
managed to dash the heavy oaken door shut — scarce 
two hundred of them ; the rest were dead, wounded, or 
shut out. 

There came a lull in the deafening noise. 

" Are they retreating ? " queried Duke William, as he 



232 THE WINTEK QUEEN 

leaned breathless against the tapestries of the centre hall. 
He was bleeding from brow and shoulder. 

" They are moving the dead from before the door ; 
they lie there ten deep — a pretty rampart ! " some one 
said. It was well spoken, for now the shouts redoubled, 
and there came a storm of clanking blows, and with a 
mighty crash the door fell in. 

" On to meet them ! We will die like gentlemen, 
not like rats in a blocked water-pipe ! " cried Duke 
William. 

' With a shout which re-echoed through the vaulted 
halls of the palace — a different music, God knows ! to 
the galliard's lilt which had been the last sound to ring 
through the Star Palace — the King's Guard charged. 

The Neapolitans, mad with rage at the death of their 
comrades, fell upon them fiercely. Man after man was 
cut down ; the floor was slippery with blood, and both 
Bohemians and Neapolitans, losing their footing, fell 
rolling and fighting like animals in that slime of gore. 
A steady stream of Imperialists, Neapolitans, and 
Spaniards poured into the palace and finished the 
work of carnage. 

Still the King's standard was held aloft. As one man 
fell, another grasped it and held it high. Of a sudden 
a bugle shrilled through the Star Palace, and a well- 
ordered troop of Bavarians shouldered their way into 
the hall. 

" Hold ! in the Emperor's name ! Maximilian of 
Bavaria gives quarter to gallant men ! " 

The Neapolitans and Spaniards sullenly withdrew from 
the fray. 

" We ask no quarter, sir ! " said William of Weimar 
proudly. 

" We are not butchers, gentlemen," returned the 
Bavarian captain. " You are ten wounded men against 
many thousands. In all honour I declare you to be my 
prisoners of war ! " 

It was useless — alas ! who could fight against such 
odds ? With a sob Duke William staggered back. 



THE WHITE MOUNTAIN 233 

" The King's banner is captured," he said, and fell 
senseless at the Bavarian's feet. 

Thus ended the battle of the White Mountain — a 
name of bitter humiliation to Bohemia. And yet, 
methinks, the fame of the valour of a few brave men 
should live for ever, shining like a star in the darkness 
of shame, cowardice, and defeat of that day of doom. 



CHAPTER XIV 

FLIGHT 

KING FRIEDRICH of Bohemia sat at the State 
Banquet in the Hall of Homage. Through the 
tall diamond-paned windows the grey light of 
the autumn day fell dimly, but many flambeaux in the 
heavy silver wall-sconces flared brightly, and on the long 
banqueting-board a hundred candles lit the stone hall to 
a warm glow, and flashed on the glittering jewels, on the 
sheen of silks and satins of the ladies' dresses, on the rich 
hues of the gallants' tunics, ablaze, too, with the jewelled 
insignia of high orders. The yellow stone walls of the 
great hall, mellowed by the wise hand of time, made an 
harmonious background for the picture of the gaily clad 
throng. It was a scene of stately splendour, for Friedrich 
had wished to show James of England's Ambassadors 
that a King of Bohemia could vie in magnificence with 
Whitehall, nay, with the Louvre itself; and he had 
prayed his courtiers to don their finest doublets, and the 
ladies to array themselves in their richest rebatoes, far- 
dingales, and gowns. 

The King sat at the centre of the long table, her 
Majesty on his right, and the two English Ambassadors, 
one at his left and the other on her Majesty's right. 
Then followed in their rank the highest in the land — my 
Lord of Michaelowitz, my Lord Count of Thurn, the Count 
of Lobkowitz, and other Bohemian gentlemen ; but a good 
number were with the army, and though laughter and 
music abounded, Elizabeth Stuart sighed when she missed 
many familiar faces. Count Schomberg was not there. 
He had craved her Majesty's leave to volunteer for a few 
months' service with the army, and she had bidden him 
do his will, deeming that perhaps the excitement of 



FLIGHT 235 

camp-life miglit turn his thoughts from their sadness, for 
Schomberg had grown old, grey, and broken since Mistress 
Anne's death, and the years had but served to confirm his 
sorrow into settled melancholy. He had refused high 
military rank, and had taken service in one of the King's 
Companies. 

The Queen looked down the long table. Yes, she 
missed Christel's boyish face ; she felt a pang when she 
did not see old Schlick's mournful brown eyes and 
pointed beard a la mode du feu Eoi Henri IV., and seeing 
Bernard Thurn was not there she grieved an instant, for 
he had grown to be a true friend during this last year in 
Bohemia. Humorously she reflected that whoever was 
missing from her surroundings Scultetus was never 
absent. She glanced at his sallow face; she had never 
liked the Calvinist since that day long ago when he 
had interrupted her moonlight reverie on the terrace at 
Heidelberg. Next to the preacher was seated Camerarius 
the secretary, a punctilious, tiresome personage whom she 
had vowed smelled of ink ! Beside them was Doctor 
Jansenius, a famed scholar, who had helped to draw up 
the manifestoes concerning the legal and historical rights 
of the Bohemians to choose their King, which Friedrich 
had caused to be printed and distributed over Europe. 
Elizabeth Stuart sighed — ah ! well, that form of weari- 
ness was nearly over ; Friedrich was secure enough in 
Bohemia ; and it was the opinion of the best authorities 
on warfare that Maximilian of Bavaria and Bucquoi would 
soon retreat into a winter camp without giving battle, 
and by the spring everything would have been quietly 
settled by the diplomatists. 

The King rose, and all the assembly stood respect- 
fully. " My honoured guests," he said, " I pray you drink 
to long life and prosperity to my revered father. King 
James of England ! " 

As he spoke a loud booming shook the windows of 
the Hall of Homage. Every one paused with their glasses 
half-way to their lips, and each gazed at his neighbour in 
dismay. Could it be that Prague was attacked ? 



236 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" Sir Edward Conway ! Sir Richard Weston ! " cried 
Friedrich, " I drink to you, and my cannon proclaims 
that in honouring you I pay a regal tribute to your 
sovereign, my royal father. King James ! " He bowed to 
the Ambassadors. The toast was drunk solemnly and 
the banquet proceeded, perhaps all the more gaily for 
the relief which the guests felt. That sudden roar of 
cannon had struck terror to their hearts, but no one 
owned even to themselves how fearful a thought had 
risen in their minds. 

" Sir Richard," said the Queen, " I doubt not you feared 
the enemy was upon us ? Fie ! sir, your cheek is still 
white and your hand trembles." 

" Nay, madame," the Ambassador answered, " I was 
but startled by the tintamarre. Seeing your Highness so 
calm and secure, who could harbour anxiety ? " Elizabeth 
glanced at him. 

" I see, sir, that you, too, are under orders to stint me 
of my title as Queen ! " She laughed. " Well, well, it 
cannot be long ere all the world will own my dear lord 
to be a King. Yet, on my life, I am little pleased with 
mine old friend Sir Henry Wotton. What think you of 
the absurdity of addressing King Friedrich as ' my 
honoured Prince the crowned Elector ' ? Yet so are 
superscribed Wotton's letters out of Vienna ! " 

" Ah ! madame, we have a hard task — love is divorced 
from his liege mistress. Duty, in this matter," returned 
Weston cautiously. 

" In other words, you love us well but must obey my 
father ? " she said lightly. " Tut, sir, old Wotton sends 
me graceful verses wherein he calls me Queen, and refuses 
me my right in letters, and, as I hear, in speech ! " 

" As a poet Sir Henry Wotton proclaims your Highness 
Queen; as a statesman — " began Weston. 

" Ah ! I am weary of it ; quibbles and words ! " she 
broke in quickly. " My beloved lord is King, and he has 
crowned me Queen, that's the fact ; and calling us crowned 
Electors is a mockery of logic," 

" Pardon us, madame, we are but poor envoys bound 



FLIGHT 237 

to obey him who has sent us," Weston answered 
humbly. 

They fell to talking of other matters — of Sir Francis 
Bacon's measures to promote the manufacture of gold 
and silver thread in England, which Elizabeth declared 
to be of profound importance to every lady who wore 
embroidered velvets ; of the Spanish match for the 
Prince of Wales; how Weston had heard in Brussels, 
always ringing with Spanish court bruits, that the fifteen- 
year-old Prince Philip of Asturias would actually com- 
mence his married life with the French Princess Isabel 
this November ; how Calderon, the writer, still languished 
in a Spanish dungeon ; of how Louis XIII. of France and 
his mother, Marie de Medici, were quarreling as usual. 
In fact all the trivial light talk which makes life a weari- 
ness at Court. 

" Surely the salutes should be over by now ? " in- 
terrupted Elizabeth Stuart ; " they sound distant and 
faint, and yet there is a constant rumbling." She listened ; 
but the laughter and music were loud around the banquet- 
board, and for the moment it seemed as though the 
rumbling sound had ceased. The King was deep in talk 
with Sir Edward Conway, and he paid no heed to Elizabeth 
when she asked why the salutes had been so prolonged. 

"Yes, I have splendid schemes for the garden here; 
and I have arranged for several painters to journey to 
Prague. I wish Kubens to paint the story of Protes- 
tantism with her Majesty and myself as the central 
figures," he was saying, as a man bent and whispered in 
his ear. " How now, sir ? I cannot hear — speak out, 
man ! " the King cried impatiently. The intruder was a 
captain of one of his Majesty's Companies on guard at the 
Hradcany Palace. 

" Your Majesty," said the man in a low voice, " a peasant 
has just come in from the village of Oberlibotz. He says 
that your Majesty's horse upon the outflanks of the enemy 
do skirmish. There hath been the sound of continuous 
firing this last hour." The King paled. 

" Is it more than a skirmish ? " he said anxiously. 



238 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" Nay, sire, the peasant could not tell me ; but he 
said " 

" What is amiss ? " broke in Elizabeth Stuart. " Fried- 
rich, why is your cheek so pale ? Are there evil tidings ? " 
On his arm she laid her hand, that nervous, Stuart hand, 
with the long, pointed, sensitive fingers that seemed so 
delicate that one thought they must tremble; and yet they 
were steady, even strong. 

" What has occurred ? Tell me ! " she added, turning 
to the captain as Friedrich hesitated. 

" There is a skirmishing on the White Mountain, 
madame," he answered, " and the cannon plays ! " 

" Skirmishing ? " she said calmly. " Sir, you have all 
cried so often that the wolf is devouring the sheep, that 
I do not credit it. Raise the banquet, my lord; 'tis likely 
of no account, but you had best ride out and see. Do not 
tell our guests; there need be no foolish noise of dismay." 
The King rose. 

" Gentlemen ! " he called, " the feast is ended; let us pro- 
ceed to the German Hall." A silence fell on the company for 
an instant — there was no sound of booming cannon without. 
The King offered his hand to her Majesty and paced down 
the long Hall of Homage. Once more the storm of voices 
of a large assembly echoed through the vaulted arches, 
and the musicians struck up a merry melody. The King 
and Queen had nearly reached the door, when a loud voice 
was heard without, and Duke Christian of Anhalt stood on 
the threshold. His grey hair was matted with sweat, his 
eyes were wild.and bloodshot, his breastplate was tarnished, 
and he was bespattered from head to foot with a horrible 
mire red with blood. 

" The day is lost, sire ! " he cried hoarsely. " The enemy 
will be on us in an hour ! Fly while there is time ! " He 
swayed a little and leaned against the doorpost. 

" Lost ! — through cowardice ! " he groaned, and passed 
a shaking hand across his brow. 

" Has there been a battle, then ? " asked Friedrich 
stupidly. Old Anhalt nodded. 

" Lost ! " he muttered, with his hand covering his eyes. 



FLIGHT 239 

" Give wine to my Lord of Anhalt ! " commanded 
Elizabeth Stuart. " He faints from weariness." No one 
moved. The whole company seemed stunned by this 
sudden disaster. 

" Phyllis, pour wine into a goblet and give it to Anhalt," 
commanded the Queen. " These fools have parted from 
their senses, and that poor old man is near to swooning." 
My Lady Phyllis brought the wine. Elizabeth took the 
goblet and held it out to Duke Christian. 

" Drink, my friend. You shall tell us your sorry history 
when you are refreshed." The old man drank a few drops 
gulpingly. 

" Madame," he said, and two great tears rolled down his 
weather-beaten cheeks, " alas ! that I have failed you ! 
Fly, for the dear God's sake ! " 

Now a wild horror seized the company, and a babel of 
voices arose. " The enemy ! — the Cossacks ! — they will 
put us to death ! — they will massacre us ! — where is our 
army ? — Destroyed ! — Alas ! fly, fly — the Cossacks ! " 

Desperately men ran hither and thither, some to the 
windows, peering anxiously through the diamond panes as 
though they expected to see the dreaded Cossacks riding 
up to the Palace, some to fetch their pistols lying on the 
table of the smaller hall. The women, weeping, clung to 
each other. Only Elizabeth Stuart and her Englishwomen 
remained calm ; Amalia Solms was yattering with terror. 

" Madame, let us hide in the cellars ! The Cossacks 
will ravage us," she wailed. The Queen turned on her 
furiously. 

" Recall your senses ! Are you a serving- wench ? Must 
you yowl like a cur ? God ! I thought you'd good blood 
in your veins ! " she cried. " Come, let us go and collect 
what clothes we need. If we have to fly we must have 
other raiment than a satin skirt and an embroidered 
fardingale ! " 

"You always insult me, madame," began the Solms, 
drying her eyes and drawing herself up. 

" Praise be to insult if it makes you behave like a lady 
of quality ! " said Elizabeth Stuart bluntly. She led the 



240 THE WINTER QUEEN 

way through the long corridors to her own apartments 
Here the quiet was like balm after the uproar in the Hall 
of Homage. Elizabeth Stuart gave her orders as if she 
were preparing for a day's hunting. 

" Give me the green velvet riding-gown ; yes, the 
warmer one. Now my plain hat with the diamond 
buckle ; nay, not one with a feather. Phyllis, help the 
Lady of Solms to gather my jewels together. Alison, 
go bid the nursewoman prepare Rupert for a journey to 
a neighbouring castle. Do not tell her ought, save that 
the King wishes us to leave the Hradcany, or she will lose 
her wits with fear. There, give me Jacky's coat — poor 
one ! " she said, catching the little monkey up, " I will 
never fail you." Her calmness gave confidence to her 
ladies, and they did her bidding promptly. 

A hurried knock came on the door and a page ran in. 

" Madame, the King has ordered the caresses immedi- 
ately," he began, but paused in surprise as a man pushed 
past him roughly. It was Master Scultetus. 

" The King has ridden out to the Strahow Gate ! " 
he cried. " He bids your Majesty fly to the Old City 
at once. The coaches will be in the courtyard ; I will 
take charge of you, will escort you to the other side 
of the river. Your Majesty must not wait for the King's 
return." 

" Until his Majesty is with me, I shall not leave the 
palace," the Queen answered haughtily. 

"It is the King's command," began the Calvinist. 

" When the King is not here, I command, sir," she re- 
turned, and flung back her head with her accustomed 
proud gesture. 

The noise of running and a confused murmur of voices 
fell on their hearing, and a crowd of waiting-women 
rushed into the Queen's apartments, 

" Save us — you brought us here, the Cossacks are upon 
the town ! " they sobbed ; they were the German tiring- 
women and underlings who had accompanied her Majesty 
from Heidelberg. 

" We have seen the Cossacks running through the 



FLIGHT 241 

streets ! Save us ! You brought us to Prague ! " they 
moaned. 

"You have seen the Cossacks?" queried her Majesty. 
Even her cheek blanched at this, for all knew the horrors 
wrought by the Polish soldiery. 

" Madame, fly ere it is too late," urged Scultetus, 

" I have told you, sir, that I await the King," she said 
proudly ; " or news of him," she added a little tremulously. 
Now the whole palace echoed with cries and sobs ; men 
and women rushed through the corridors crying the word 
" Cossacks ! " Everywhere was panic, confusion, and 
useless haste. Elizabeth Stuart felt how alone she was 
among this distracted crowd. Alas ! why had she given 
Schomberg permission to leave her ? He had always 
stood between her and the difficulties of a great house- 
hold. 

" At least await the King in the courtyard porch," 
urged Scultetus. " The coaches are there, and, when his 
Majesty returns, you can ride away immediately." 

Elizabeth Stuart looked round her room. She had 
spent many a happy hour here during her year in 
Bohemia. Should she ever again see this room with 
the gilded mirrors, the large, tapestry-hung bed where 
Rupert had been born, the splendid Renaissance mould- 
ings on wall and ceiling ? Yet, after all, if she left 
Prague for ever it could be but to return to Heidelberg. 

" Madame ! madame, I pray you hasten ! " Scultetus' 
harsh voice broke in on her pondering. 

" There is enough haste in the world already," she an- 
swered, but, clasping her monkey in her arms, she passed 
out into the corridor. Here the waiting-women were 
huddled together, weeping and wailing. 

" Save us ! " they cried when they saw the Queen, 

" Come, then, and if I am saved you will be rescued 
too," she said kindly. Together they took their way 
through the maze of corridors to the porch of the second 
courtyard. 

It was an unwonted group, like to some fantastic 
finale to a comic mask — the Queen and her ladies 

Q 



242 THE WINTER QUEEN 

in riding-gowns, the serving-maids, tiring-women, her 
Majesty's laundresses, the German scullery- wenches, — 
velvets and jewels beside homespun cloth, coarse aprons, 
and linen caps. Master Scultetus, sombre and unsightly 
in his long black gown and skull-cap, was there ; and 
one or two courtiers richly attired as they had left the 
State banquet, a few young pages in velvet tunics, lackeys 
in full gala livery, and cooks in white overalls. The 
courtyard was full of coaches : here was a baggage-waggon 
which sumptermen were piling up with furniture, bed- 
hangings, and linen ; there was a cart which Master Came- 
rarius and his clerks were filling with State documents. 

For some time these proceedings continued undis- 
turbed, and a measure of calm returned to the waiting 
crowd. One or two women hurried away to fetch their 
cloaks, lackeys ran to bring some of her Majesty's coffers 
which a few tiring-women, taking courage now, remem- 
bered to pack. The Queen sat on the guards' bench 
with her monkey clasped in her arms, while beside her 
the nurse-woman swayed, hushing the baby Prince to 
sleep. With trembling lips the woman hummed a 
lullaby, prompted by that magnificent instinct which 
teaches women to know how battle, murder, and grim 
death may riot near, but that the babies must sleep 
whate'er befalls. 

There came the clatter of horses' hoofs, and a dozen 
riders dashed into the courtyard. 

The Queen advanced to the porch. " Friedrich ! " she 
said, and the word thrilled from her lips like a cry of 
joy; for despite courage, pride, and calmness she had 
agonised while the King was away. Her fancy had 
painted half-a-hundred pictures wherein he, whom she 
loved more with the sheltering tenderness of a mother 
than with the love of a woman, lay bleeding, suffering, 
slain perchance. Now one glance at his face was 
sufficient to tell her that disaster had come to them, 
and immediately her courage rose ready to meet what- 
ever fate held in store. The King dismounted and hurried 
to her. 



FLIGHT 243 

" All is lost," he said dully ; " the whole army is in 
flight. I found a rabble of our men battering at the 
Strahow Gate, praying for admittance. Schlick was there, 
and Hohenlohe. I ordered the gates to be opened, and 
they were borne in among an ugly rush of fugitives. 
They say that a number of Hungarians have entered 
through some breach in the walls ; many have tried to 
ford the river beyond the ramparts ; hundreds are 
drowned ! " He bowed his head, and stood bent and 
broken as an old man. 

" Will you not defend the town ? " she cried. 

" Useless, useless," he muttered ; " there is treachery ! 
The enemy is upon us — we must fly 1 " Those nearest 
the King among the listening crowd heard him say the 
words, " The enemy is upon us," and instantly a shriek of 
terror and a wild tumult arose. " Fly ! fly ! the Cossacks ! " 
Men and women rushed helter-skelter across the court- 
yard. Scultetus' harsh voice was heard even above the 
din: 

" The coaches ! To the coaches ! Hasten ! " The 
Queen was almost pushed into the first coach, her ladies 
after her. 

" Put the nurse-woman here beside me ! Give Rupert 
to me ! " she cried. 

" No time, they can follow in the second coach ! " called 
Friedrich. " Drive on! Hasten ! To the Old Town, across 
the Karl's Bridge." He mounted his horse, ranged up 
beside her Majesty's coach, and the cavalcade started at 
a hand-gallop. A frenzy seized those left in the court- 
yard, and the coaches were besieged by crowds of sobbing, 
clamouring women. 

In the porch a courtier, who had kept a remnant of 
self-control, heard a wailing cry at his feet, and saw a 
bundle of fine linen and flimsy laces lying beneath the 
guards' bench. 

" God in heaven ! The little Prince ! " the courtier 
cried, and, seizing the bundle, he shouldered roughly 
through the crowd to the nearest coach. 

" Give way ! " he thundered. " Here is a more precious 



244 THE WINTER QUEEN 

burden than such as you ! " He struck out fiercely, even 
drew his sword. " Here ! you woman, whoever you may 
be, take the child to the Old Town ! " he cried, and flung 
the infant into the arms of a kitchen-wench who was 
seated in a gilded carosse where the highest in the land 
were wont to ride. Before the driver could whip up the 
rearing, frightened horses a woman flung herself on to the 
coach-step. 

" Give me my baby ! " she yelled, and, clambering into 
the coach, snatched Prince Rupert from the astonished 
kitchen-wench. Once more the instinct of the nurse 
had conquered terror, and the babe was safe in the 
arms of the craven who, in her panic, would have left 
him to be trampled to death. 

Swaying and jolting, coach after coach drove away 
from the Hradcany Palace. Soldiers of the King's 
Company galloped through the cobble-stoned yard ; 
sumptermen and pack-horses and baggage-waggons ; 
serving-maids and henchmen, bakers, embroiderers, 
shoemakers, furriers — a motley crowd — joined in the 
hurrying stream which poured in mad confusion down 
the hill towards the Old Town. 

In that surging crowd it was no easy matter to drive 
quickly. The whole of Prague was gathered on the 
Queen's route ; shouts and cries filled the air. Here was 
a bearded soldier telling his own version of the battle to a 
group of eager burghers ; here a peasant from one of the 
villages near the White Mountain was being questioned by 
a throng of half inquisitive, half terror-stricken citizens ; 
Jews, artisans, workmen, soldiers, market-women. It was 
a dense mob, and though now and then a man would 
doff his cap as the Queen passed, there was not wanting 
in hostile cries, and even once or twice a stone thudded 
against the leather curtain of her Majesty's travelling 
coach. 

At length the Karls Bridge was reached. Here the 
crowd was even more closely packed, and the King and 
his few courtiers reined in their horses, leaving the coach 
to lead the way. Towards the centre of the bridge the 



FLIGHT 245 

rabble was so thick that the coach perforce halted before 
the stone crucifix. Here stood a thin-faced man in a 
black cassock. He had climbed on to the stone balus- 
trade, and, steadying himself by holding the base of 
the cross with one hand, he stood with outstretched arm 
pointing at her Majesty. A lull fell, all around desired 
to hear what this man would say. 

" Thou, who hast insulted the Christ, see now how swift 
is God's vengeance ! " he cried loudly. " Thou, who didst 
swear never to pass this bridge till this emblem of our 
Faith was destroyed, see now, how thou art forced to fly 
into exile ! The Christ is avenged ! " Furiously the King 
drew his sword, and essayed to press his way through the 
mob ; but rude hands were laid on his bridle, and his 
horse was forced back on its haunches. By the time the 
King had succeeded in calming the terrified animal the 
speaker had disappeared, swallowed up -by the surging 
crowd. Once during this harangue the Queen had made 
a movement as though she would rise and deny this 
accusation, but, though she had opened her lips to speak, 
she had said no word. Denial was useless. Perhaps she 
felt she had too true a story to tell ; none would believe 
her ! An ominous, hostile roar went up, then came a 
momentary lull, and some one shouted a Czechish sen- 
tence which was greeted by a yell of coarse laughter. 

With flushed cheeks, eyes ablaze with anger, and head 
proudly erect, the Queen sat silent as her coach passed 
over the Karls Bridge and into the narrow streets of the 
Old Town of Prague. 



In a citizen's house on the right bank of the Moldau 
there was a company assembled. In a low ceilinged 
chamber hung with ancient tapestries, and furnished with 
heavy chairs, a massy centre table, and ancient carven 
sideboards decked with silver cups and elaborately em- 
blazoned glasses, a fire burned brightly on the wide hearth. 
On the table and the sideboards, waxen candles, in heavy 
silver candlesticks, shed a soft light on the anxious faces 



246 THE WINTER QUEEN 

of the company. Outside, a rising gale moaned fitfully, 
and the spasmodic gusts drove the raindrops sharply 
against the panes of the small lattice windows. 

King Friedrich was seated at the centre table before a 
slender glass wherefrom arose the perfume of mulled wine, 
but the King was not tempted by its fragrancy ; he pushed 
away the glass, and, leaning his head upon his hand, 
he stared moodily at the leaping flames on the hearth. 
Elizabeth Stuart sat in a high-backed chair ; ever and 
anon her strong white fingers drummed impatiently on the 
wooden chair-arms. My Lady of Solms, my Lady Phyllis 
Devereux, Mistress Alison Hay, Mistress Clovelly and 
Mistress Stanley were grouped together near the window. 
Master Scultetus, Duke Christian of Anhalt, my Lords of 
Thurn, Hohenlohe, and Schlick, young Bernard Thurn and 
several Czechish gentlemen sat round the table ; while 
before the hearth the English ambassadors, Sir Richard 
Weston and Sir Edward Conway, conversed in low tones 
with Sir Francis Nethersole, the British agent to the 
Protestant Union. 

" My lord, I pray you not to counsel the King to tarry 
in Prague," said Hohenlohe after a long pause. " The 
day is lost ; the army is destroyed ; what will avail if the 
King is taken prisoner ? " 

" Perchance you are right," said Thurn musingly ; " yet, 
if the Duke of Bavaria answers that he grants eight days' 
armistice, could we not rally enough troops to defend the 
city? We could hold out for a few weeks' siege. Sir 
Edward Conway, how long would you need to ride to 
England, and return with enough English gold to buy off 
Maximilian, or at least Messieurs de Tilly and Bucquoi ? " 
Conway shook his head. 

" Alas ! sir, I could but promise to return in twenty- 
five days, although I would spare no effort ; yet I must 
have a few days in England to arrange the collection of 
so large a sum, and the King, my master, will require a 
day or more to consider if he can vouch for this outlay," 
he said doubtfully. 

" Surely, no one can hesitate before emergency ! " cried 



FLIGHT 247 

Anhalt. " Even King James — " he paused and glanced 
at the Queen. 

" My lords," she said, " this is no time for negotiations ; 
we must stand or fall by our own endeavour — battle 
alone against our foes or fly before them. My father will 
not help ; later, perchance, he will send troops to sweep 
Spinola from the Palatinate, but for Bohemia he will do 
nothing. Am I right, gentlemen?" she added to the 
Englishmen. 

" I fear your Maj — your Highness is but too true a 
prophet," returned Conway. 

" Fly noAv — at once, sire ! " Thurn exclaimed. " We 
risk our heads by staying here ! Death and dishonour 
only await us, and your Majesty's liberty is at stake." 

" Monsieur mon pere ! death may be in store, but can 
dishonour approach those who die for Bohemia ? " cried 
Bernard Thurn hotly. " I pray you let me escort her 
Majesty to Karlstein. I will guard her there — for a year 
if there is need, and, when we have re-won Bohemia, she 
will return to her town of Prague." 

" You speak a vain thing, my young sir ! " growled 
Hohenlohe. " As a tactician I know how useless it is to 
rally a disheartened army in the face of an overwhelming 
organised force ! Flight is the only reasonable course. 
Who gave you leave to meddle in the council of grown 
men ? " he added, turning upon Bernard Thurn in that 
access of fury which is bred by fear. 

" We dally with words, my lord," answered the young 
man boldly ; " the night has fallen and we have done 
nought ! My commanders ! Give me leave to ride with 
a flag of truce to Duke Maximilian and crave an eight 
days' armistice ! At least that will give time for your 
deliberations," he added with a hint of scorn in his voice. 

" According to Mendoza's rule a flag of truce from a van- 
quished foe can only mean surrender," said Anhalt slowly. 

" And yet again, by the writings of the Dutch School 
a parley may take place at any time without binding either 
parties to any course of action," replied Hohenlohe. 

" Ah ! sirs ! surely this is no time for written rules ! " 



248 THE WINTER QUEEN 

cried Elizabeth Stuart impatiently. " Let Bernard Thurn 
go demand the truce, and then we shall know how long 
we have to decide our plan of action." 

" Sire, have I leave to ride to the enemy's camp ? " 
said Bernard Thurn. The King nodded, and, turning 
to Camerarius, he said : 

" You had best write praying for an eight days' truce." 
The secretary drew out of his pocket a scroll of parch- 
ment and an inkhorn. Deftly he sharpened a quill, and, 
leaning low over the table, began to write. Silence fell 
on the company, broken only by the crackling of the fire, 
the hurrying scud of the rain against the windows, the 
moaning of the wind-gusts, and the scratch of the quill 
as Camerarius embellished this missive of haste and 
supplication with flourishes and initial letters. 

When the document was finished, the King afl&xed to 
it that " Fredericus Rex " which he had ne'er thought to 
sign beneath so sorry a page of history. 

" Take this missive to my cousin of Bavaria, Count 
Bernard Thurn. Tell him I crave his kindness by reason 
of our kinship," he said, with a touch of his usual grand- 
iloquent pomposity. 

" Tell him no such thing, my lord ! " broke in the Queen 
impulsively; " say, rather, that we but crave his chivalrous 
courtesy that we may fight him the better ! We ask no 
kindness from our foes ; the King did not express himself 
clearly ! " Bernard Thurn bent the knee before her. 

" I would serve a man of such spirit to the death, 
madame," he said huskily, and went. 

" Blessed undaunted lady ! " murmured Sir Edward 
Conway. 

Hour after hour dragged its leaden-footed way through 
the night. The Queen's ladies had gone to rest; the 
gentlemen's heads sank forward in drowsy weariness. 
Often the citizen, who owned the house, came in and 
threw fresh logs upon the glowing embers on the hearth, 
snuffed a candle, brought new flagons of wine or more 
meat and bread. 



FLIGHT 249 

The Queen still sat in the high-backed chair, though 
sometimes she rose stiffly and, going to the window, stared 
out into the darkness. Once as she passed near the King 
she touched him gently on the shoulder. He started, 
and, catching her hand in both of his, gazed up at her 
piteously. She glanced at the gentlemen ; some were 
dozing uneasily, and those who were awake had averted 
their eyes from this commune of stricken souls. Gently 
she drew his head against her breast, and her hand 
wandered over his hot brow. 

" Darkness and sunshine take their turns on earth, 
dear heart," she whispered ; " yet doth love remain un- 
changed whate'er befalls." 

" I have failed," he muttered brokenly ; " men will 
mock me " 

" Courage ! How often has failure been the prologue 
to triumph ! We cannot be brought under fortune save 
by owning misfortune. Oh ! dear heart, you are so strong, 
and I am very weak ; help me now." It was the old 
splendid falsehood whereby the strong woman seeks to 
inspire strength in the weak man — the grand untruth to 
which only the strong dare stoop. The King sprang up 
impetuously. " The Queen is very weary, my lords," he 
cried ; " let us decide that, come what may, we stay in 
Prague and fight to the last ! And now to sleep ! Let 
me be summoned when my young Lord Thurn returns. 
I give you tryst at sunrise, when we will take the proper 
measures for our army." His burst of energy seemed to 
recall the courage of those weary watchers, and from 
despair they awoke to effort. 

" We will stay and work out plans of defence ! " said 
the elder Thurn. " We will have a good — " The Queen 
interrupted him. 

" Think you that kings sleep while there is a battle to 
be planned ? Nay, my lord ! Friedrich of Bohemia 
works with you, and I, who am no skilled tactician, will 
at least stay by to cheer you — if I can." She resumed 
her seat in the high-backed chair and silently watched 
how Anhalt, Thurn, Hohenlohe, and the rest wrote com- 



250 THE WINTER QUEEN 

mands, drew up manifestoes, manoeuvred — on paper — 
with an army which lay slaughtered not two miles away, 
or with disbanded troops of mutineers and deserters. 
She knew full well that all this was futile, but she felt 
that to the last it behoved the King to strive ; that his 
only dignity lay in a semblance of courageous hope now 
that all was lost. Yet it was not her way to underrate 
the gravity of their plight. It was easy enough for 
Thurn to bid them fly, but whither could they turn their 
steps ? The Palatinate being entirely overrun by Spinola's 
troops, the threatened city of Heidelberg would be no 
safer a refuge than Prague. In any case it would be 
impossible to win through the lines of the Imperial army 
which blocked the road to the Palatinate. Their only 
course was to pass through Silesia, and throw themselves 
on the hospitality of George William of Brandenburg. 

The gray dawn had long come, and still there was no 
answer from Maximilian of Bavaria, but the occupation 
had banished despair from the watchers' hearts. 

Hurried steps came on the stairs, the door was flung 
open, and Bernard Thurn stood on the threshold. 

" Maximilian of Bavaria grants eight hours' armistice. 
He bade me tell your Majesty that he is answerable to the 
Emperor for the taking of the rebellious city of Prague," 
he said hoarsely. " I have ridden as hard as I could, but 
I was constantly held up by sentries or marauders ; it is 
nigh upon five hours since the truce was granted ! Duke 
Maximilian counted it from last midnight. It is long past 
dawn now. I, too, pray your Majesties to fly ! There is 
not a single regiment of your army ready to take the 
field. We have four hundred men of the Guard who 
were at the Hradcdny, but that is all Bohemia's army." 
The generals stared at one another in consternation. 
Elizabeth Stuart rose. 

" Are there tidings of Christian of Anhalt and of Count 
Schomberg ? " she asked. 

" Madame, the death of heroes calls for no sorrow," the 
young man answered solemnly. She bowed her head 



FLIGHT 251 

in silence for an instant, then in a low voice she 
said: 

" I would know where and how they died ? " 

" Christel fell in the melee at the head of his men, 
and Schomberg was cut down while he defended the 
King's standard at the Star Palace," Bernard Thurn 
said. With outstretched hands the Queen went to old 
Anhalt. 

" God comfort you," she whispered. The old man 
bowed over her hand. 

" Madame," he made answer, " he was the light of 
mine eyes, but the day is lost and I have no time for 
grieving now. There are enough years wherein to mourn 
him." He turned away, and the Queen left him, knowing 
that silence was the only tribute she could pay to his 
pain. 

" Order the coaches, Count Thurn," she said calmly. 
" Whenever they are ready we will start for Silesia. All 
the coaches, sir," she added. " I will not leave one terror- 
stricken serving- wench to rue the day when she followed 
Elizabeth Stuart to Bohemia." 

The rain fell in torrents over Prague, and, despite 
curiosity and anxiety, the streets were empty as the 
King's cortege drove away. Through the slit in the 
leather curtain of her carosse the Queen peered at those 
gloomy, narrow streets. How different was this exit from 
Prague to her sunlit entry but a short year since ! 

When the cavalcade reached a wood beyond the city 
where she had sometimes hunted, she bid her driver 
pause, and leaning out of her carosse she gazed over the 
town. She could see the turrets and cupolas, the spires 
and towers of the Hradcany Palace ; but the mist fell like 
a shroud over the White Mountain, where the pride of 
Bohemia lay shattered for ever. 



CHAPTER XV 

HOLLAND 

" Fille et femme de roy, sans biens et sans couronne, 
Je suis de mon ^poux le sort trop inhumain. 
Sans en etre attendri mon Pere m'abandonne, 
Mais la HoUande m' ouvre et sa bourse et son sein." 

IT was spring, and over Holland the clear skies smiled ; 
the fields were radiant in their young green, and the 
windmills turned lazily beneath the kiss of the soft 
breeze. Quaintly the masts of ships and boat-sails rose, 
seeming to glide through the fields themselves, for the 
canals were hidden from view, deep enshrined between 
their trim banks. 

It seemed to Elizabeth Stuart that there was a likeness 
to England in this peaceful Dutch land, something of the 
same suavity in the air, something English in the brilliancy 
of the green of grass and hedge, and in the neatness of the 
village streets with the homely, square brick houses and 
their shining, brass door-knockers. She thought they 
resembled those villages near Combe, which she had so 
often seen as a little maiden. After the o'er-darkened 
days since her flight from Prague the Queen was very 
ready to respond to the happy mood of the spring days, 
for despite her undaunted cheerfulness she had fought a 
desperate fight with sorrow and despair. The journey to 
Breslau had been a grim trial, and she shuddered when 
she remembered the gloom, the pouring rain, the deep 
mud of the rutted roads — then the chill of the reception 
by the citizens of Breslau. Who wanted to honour a 
fugitive King and Queen ? There was danger in harbour- 
ing a Prince over whom the ban of the Empire hovered ; 
the victorious Emperor's wrath would be meted out to 
those who gave succour to his fallen foe. The Breslauers 
had taught Elizabeth Stuart the first line in that lesson 
of humiliation which it was ordained she should learn to 



HOLLAND 253 

the last letter. They had given the fugitives shelter — 
had even raised a large sum of money for them ; but they 
had showed plainly that they would be rid of their un- 
fortunate royal guests. Then George William of Branden- 
burg, Friedrich's sister's spouse, had hung back in offering 
hospitality ; he whom, in the happy days at Heidelberg, 
she had judged so shrewdly, saying : " Our fond brother 
sits eternally on a stile between two fields ; he could ne'er 
be a foe save through fear for his own skin, but God grant 
I may never need to depend on his friendship." He had 
proved her bitterly right, for he had professed a dozen 
reasons for refusing her shelter in Berlin ; had proffered 
the gaunt, uninhabited Castle of Ciistrin, but at the same 
time had advised her to refuse his generous offer, for 
Ciistrin was unfurnished, unheated, unvictualled — indeed 
he had retracted his offer of Ciistrin. Then, when she had 
set out from Breslau, deeming that when she arrived in 
Berlin, out of common charity he could not refuse shelter 
to a woman so near the agony of motherhood, she had been 
stopped by his messengers, who avowed their master's re- 
luctance to receive her — nay,forbade her to journey farther 
to Berlin or to Ciistrin. 

Thus, on a bitter cold December night she had found 
herself stranded on the country roads with no prospect of 
finding refuge — she, Elizabeth Stuart, Queen of Bohemia, 
Electress Palatine, she, who bore a child beneath her heart ! 
Like an outcast beggar-woman she had seen the lights 
gleaming in a castle window, and, poor suppliant, she had 
stood before the door of the Castle of Carolath and prayed 
for shelter for one night. In this hour of her bitter need 
she had found a friend — Herr von Schonaich, Lord of 
Carolath, had bidden her welcome, had bent the knee 
before her, and prayed her honour his poor house. Many 
days she had tarried in this honourable gentleman's castle ; 
Schonaich was proud to brave the Emperor's wrath, proud 
to offer loyal homage to the fallen sovereigns. God knows, 
it was to cost him dear. At last George William of 
Brandenburg had relented, and had opened the doors — 
of Ciistrin. Here, in gaunt rooms, where rats ran along 
the broken wainscotmg, she had camped, making what 



254 THE WINTER QUEEN 

she could of comfort with her own tapestries and bed- 
hangings, and buying scant victuals from the ill-stored 
market of the small town. Her ladies had tended her 
and answered her brave spirit by loyal cheerfulness. And 
here but a few days after her arrival she had given birth 
to a " large and goodly " son, whom she had caused to be 
christened Maurice after the Prince of Orange. 

" A soldier's name for my little one, I pray you," she 
had cried from her tapestry-hung bed in that bare un- 
lovely room. " He will have to seek his fortune by the 
sword. Alack ! all I can give him is a soldier's name." 

The gloom of Ciistrin had been lightened for Elizabeth 
by the tidings that Christel of Anhalt, though sore 
wounded and a prisoner in Vienna, was alive. He had 
been found among a heap of dead on the battlefield 
of the White Mountain, and had been dragged before 
Bucquoi, who, most chivalrous of foes, had caused him to 
be well tended and had entertained him honourably. 
When she had heard this news it had been to Elizabeth 
Stuart as if a stone were lifted from her heart, for not 
only had she grieved for Christel, but it had seemed to 
her that Destiny, striking thus near to her, was a sure 
omen of impending doom for her and those she loved. 
Thus, despite the dreariness of Ciistrin and the darkness 
of the political horizon, her buoyant spirit had risen and 
she had faced life once more, not alone with her accus- 
tomed brave cheerfulness, but with a degree of real 
confidence and gaiety. 

George William's charity had been as short-lived as it 
had been grudgingly given, and he had soon required his 
guests to seek other hospitality. The infant Maurice 
could be housed in Berlin if need be, he had generously 
offered, but the mother and father — this vagrant couple 
— must move on. 

Wolfenbiittel had been the next stage, and here her 
Majesty's aunt Elizabeth of Denmark, Duchess of Bruns- 
wick, had given Elizabeth Stuart friendly welcome. At 
first the Queen had declared she would not sojourn at 
Wolfenbiittel; she did not choose to associate with Christian 
of Brunswick, the mad Halberstadter ! She had vowed 



HOLLAND 255 

he was no fitting company for an honest woman, be she 
Queen or maid. It was a whimsey of her Majesty's, but 
she had long been full of scorn and anger against this 
reprobate kinsman of hers. Even the King had laughed 
at her for this. 

" Dear heart, the Halberstadter is no worse than many 
another gallant ! " he had said. 

" I say he is, and I will not see him. That is enough ! " 
she had answered ; and when Elizabeth Stuart spoke thus 
vehemently it was best to acquiesce. But the pother had 
been soon cleared up : Christian of Brunswick was not at 
Wolfenbiittel, not even at Halberstadt ; he was somewhere 
in the Netherlands commanding a troop of Maurice of 
Orange's cavalry. So the days had passed peacefully 
enough at Wolfenbiittel. 

And now the King and Queen journeyed to the Hague 
at the invitation of the States General and of the Stadt- 
houder Maurice of Orange. They were greeted by the 
Dutch as though they had been victors on a triumphal 
progress. Everywhere great crowds applauded the Pro- 
testant champions ; cannon thundered salutes to the fallen 
monarch ; the estates voted goodly sums for his main- 
tenance ; a fine house in the Hague was to be placed at 
his disposal ; and their entry to the Hague was, if any- 
thing, more sumptuous than the entry thither on the 
bridal journey eight years ago. A respectful, orderly 
crowd lined the roads for miles, and the broad walk of 
the Vijverberg was so packed with citizens that many 
were pushed into the shallow square sheet of water and 
got a ducking as the reward of their enthusiasm. 

As the Queen's carosse moved through the crowd she 
was hugely diverted at the aspect of this assembly of 
substantial burghers, for their sober- coloured tunics 
merged into a blurred mass, and their heads, set between 
exactly similar wheel-like ruffs and high-crowned black 
hats, made them appear, as she whispered to my Lady 
Phyllis, " like a multitude of turnips with hats set upon 
round white plates." 

The Queen of Bohemia's house faced the Lange Voor- 
hout, standing a little back from the broad street, in a 



256 THE WINTER QUEEN 

garden with high clipped, hornbeam hedges, and a 
centre fountain bordered by formal flower-beds, where 
red and yellow tulips stood in prim, decorous rows. It 
was an unpretentious red-brick house, with white stone 
copings framing the large, square windows ; not a palace 
truly, but then her Majesty would only sojourn at the 
Hague until the evil times were past and she could 
return either to Prague or to Heidelberg ; or, if this did 
not come to pass in a few months, she would presumably 
repair to her father at Whitehall. 

Meanwhile her Court at the Hague immediately be- 
came the hub of Holland's fashion. Her house could 
boast of no marbled halls as at Heidelberg, of no gilded 
splendour as at the Hradcany, yet the lofty, panelled 
chambers were homely and comfortable, with their deep 
fireplaces gaily adorned by the coloured Dutch tiles, and 
the polished oaken wall-cupboards, through whose glass 
doors were seen the blue and white jars, vases, plates, 
and cups of that new pottery ware of Delft, which was 
already so much the mode in Holland. These rooms saw 
brilliant gatherings of ladies and gallants, who vowed 
that though Elizabeth Stuart had temporarily renounced 
the splendour of a Court, still she was always a queen 
regnant over a kingdom of hearts and an empire of 
manifold gaiety. Perhaps in her relief at the ending of 
those dark days before her flight from Prague, of those 
dreary months of sorrow and humiliation in Silesia and 
Prussia, the Queen was a trifle over-merry for one who 
was the cause of the horror of war having been let loose 
over Bohemia and the Palatinate. At least, so said those 
who had not been brought within the magic of her potent 
charm. In Holland all hailed her advent with enthusiasm 
— the more so because in latter years there had been no 
Court at the Hague ; for Maurice of Orange and his half- 
brother, Frederik Hendrik, were unmarried, and thus 
the Stadthouder's Castle, the Binnenhof, had become a 
trysting-place of soldiers, a college of tacticians, more 
than a courtly palace. 

Holland, always famed as the home of culture and re- 
finement, had risen to a high degree of prosperity during 



HOLLAND 257 

tlie twelve years' truce with her traditional foe, Spain ; 
and though the expiration of this armistice chanced to 
coincide with the dethroned Bohemian Majesties' arrival, 
and the Dutch were busy with preparations for the resump- 
tion of active warfare, yet there was a sense of peaceful 
security at the Hague. 

The spring days passed merrily enough for Elizabeth 
Stuart, and she followed the falcon in the forests near the 
Hague, danced at the Binnenhof, made gay excursions 
to Amsterdam, where she held a Court and graciously 
received many Englishwomen of fashion, who hurried 
over to Holland to offer their respectful homage to her 
Majesty, 

What mattered it that Ferdinand had hurled the ban 
of the empire upon King Friedrich ? It was illegal thus 
to pronounce the dread sentence which made a prince an 
outlaw, and those who befriended him or his, guilty of 
high treason to the empire, for the ban had been spoken 
without a fair and open trial, and this was contrary to 
the letter of the law, which bound the Emperor to afford 
the accused trial by his peers. 

Mansfeld, probably not having received for his treachery 
as large a price as he had expected from the Emperor, 
was in arms again in Friedrich's name on the frontier of 
the Palatinate and Bohemia. So far things were not 
entirely hopeless for King Friedrich, for King James still 
professed his intention of sending troops to save the 
Palatinate, though, as usual, he procrastinated, alleging 
his exchequer to be empty. Friedrich implored him to 
provide, nay, to lend funds for maintaining Mansfeld and 
raising an English army to reinforce him ; but the money 
was refused, and only a small force of two thousand men, 
under Sir Horace Vere, was despatched to the Palatinate 
with instructions to garrison Heidelberg, Mannheim, and 
Frankenthal, which Spinola had not yet seized, Alas ! 
the English troops in Bohemia had played a sorry part, 
for the garrison of six hundred Englishmen which had 
held the impregnable Karlstein, hearing of the defeat at 
the White Mountain, had surrendered without striking a 



258 THE WINTER QUEEN 

blow. Truly, as Elizabeth Stuart said bitterly, Bernard 
Thurn bad been right when he had so proudly declared 
that the Englishmen's gallantry would match the Bohe- 
mians' valour and loyalty ! Yet she must now e'en place 
her trust in another body of English volunteers and in 
the treacherous Mansfeld. The Princes of the Protestant 
Union, too, had now openly abandoned King Friedrich 
and had concluded a treaty of peace with Ferdinand, 
wherein the Bohemian King and his Palatinate were not 
even mentioned. 

The prospect was black enough, and yet, with King 
James's Ambassadors negotiating in Vienna for a peaceful 
arrangement, with Maurice of Orange and his army ready 
to take the field, with the King of Denmark professing 
his ardour to assist, with a veritable host of young nobles 
pouring into the Hague — Bohemians, Germans, English- 
men, Scotchmen, French Huguenots — all eager to take 
arms in the cause of romantic misfortune, who could 
blame King Friedrich and Elizabeth Stuart if they 
deemed the gloom which hung over them to be but 
a passing thundercloud ? 

" Be thou faithful unto death and I will give thee a 
croAvn of life," her Majesty quoted when Friedrich grew 
faint-hearted. "An we are faithful to our cause, God 
will remember us when the time of our trial is over. 
Courage and a bright face, dear my lord ! We have 
but to wait a few years, and then hey for home at 
Heidelberg, if not to Prague again ! " Thus she set 
herself to wait bravely, and with her usual undaunted 
spirit she threw herself into whatever the Hague offered 
of gaiety. Friedrich, on the other hand, with that obsti- 
nate German dislike of the Dutch, was but ill at ease in 
Holland. He hated the Dutchman's homely, friendly 
ways; they seemed to him too informal, and lacking 
in respect to a German prince. In the Hague, as in 
almost every European town, there were distributed 
dozens of caricatures, of rudely printed pamphlets and 
ribald verses, wherein the "Winter King" and the "Winter 
Queen " were held up to ridicule. Nowadays Friedrich 



HOLLAND 259 

was universally known by this sobriquet, wliicli was taken 
from the Pope's saying that " he was only a King of 
Snows whose realm would soon melt." Friedrich raged 
at the derisive appellation, and his anger knew no bounds 
when he saw her Majesty dubbed " Winter Queen " in 
the pasquinades. He resented these lampoons bitterly; 
but Elizabeth laughed, and even caused them to be 
bought for her from the pedlars who hawked them 
through the streets. 

One day she sat in her wainscoted parlour with a heap 
of these " Spottblatter " on the table beside her. 

" See, my lord ! " she cried, taking one from the pile. 
" Here am I dressed as a beggar-woman, with a baby 
strapped to my shoulder ; and here are you pushing a 
hand-barrow full of crowns, and underneath is written : 
' A Winter King seeks Summer employment ! ' " She 
laughed, and handed him the freshly printed sheet ! 

" What insolence ! " he muttered angrily. " God give 
me power to punish these loons some day ! " 

" Why not laugh instead of raging ? Laughter routs 
brutal mockery so much better than weak anger. See, 
here are other pasquinades. Oh ! dear my lord, never 
look so gloomy ; they are really droll -enough." She read 
out the absurd lampoon purporting to be a Prague town- 
crier's proclamation of how a sallow-faced youth, afflicted 
with a squint, had gone amissing. " This fellow answers 
to the name of Friedrich, King of Bohemia, and has just 
played a part in a well-known, but badly acted comedy. 
A reward offered for keeping him out of sight," the legend 
ended. There was a grotesque drawing illustrating the 
popular rhyme which was sung in the alleys of the Hague 
just then, a foolish song enough, telling how Denmark, 
Holland, and England had promised Friedrich a hundred 
thousand soldiers, but that as men were scarce, they had 
sent : Holland, a hundred thousand cheeses ; Denmark, a 
hundred thousand red-herrings ; and England, a hundred 
thousand — ambassadors. Elizabeth Stuart laughed ; on 
the face of it there was a certain truth in the ditty, and 
she could not resist the humour of the verse concerning 



260 THE WINTER QUEEN 

her father's hundred thousand ambassadors, when she 
recalled the many useless solemn embassies which King 
James always delighted to despatch. 

With sombre brow and dejected attitude the King 
stood before the window, gazing dully out into the garden, 
while the Queen looked through the pamphlets. Suddenly 
he turned on her almost roughly. 

" I marvel, madame, that you find pleasure in such 
insolent trash," he said. 

" Pleasure ! dear heart ? " she answered quietly. " Nay, 
but I find these verses droll, and I will not honour them 
with anger ; they are not worth it." 

" At least do not let your children see them," he said. 

" My children ! Yours, too, methinks ! " she said, 
laughing. " Hal could not understand them, though, as 
you say, perchance I had best hide them from Maurice, 
for as he is but six months old, he might be deeply 
wounded. Oh ! dear my heart ; if you would take the 
smaller things of life less gravely ! You and Amalia 
Solms half kill me with your portentous gravity over 
small matters ! " 

" 'Tis the German way to treat life seriously — " he 
began. 

" 'Tis the English way to crush disagreeable trifles by 
ignoring them," she said, and a note of weariness underlay 
her bantering tone. " Nay, do not let us wrangle," she 
added ; " tell me whom you have seen on the Vijverberg 
this day." 

He told her how he had conversed with Sir Dudley 
Carlton, the English envoy to their High Mightinesses 
the States-General ; how Mijnheer Jacob Cats, the proverb 
lover, had paced beside him for a half-hour's talk ; how 
the Stadthouder's brother, Frederik Hendrik of Orange, 
had greeted him and spoken long of the beauty of Amalia 
Solms ; how the young painter Mierevelt had been there. 

"And, sweeting, I have some tidings which your fool 
pamphlets put from my memory," he said. " Master 
Scultetus writes that he durst not stay in Heidelberg for 
fear of Spinola's troops, and thus he has returned to 



HOLLAND 261 

Silesia, where he prays us to obtain for him a cure 
of souls." 

" He is not returning to us ? " she cried. " Friedrich ! 
I could sing aloud with joy ! That sour-visaged man 
hath brought us enough ill luck all these years, and I am 
too happy that he abandons us when we are in misfortune. 
But, mark you, I think it ugly of him," she added. 

" Woman's logic ! " the King said angrily, though a 
flush of embarrassment rose to his cheek. " You accuse 
a wise man, and a devoted servant, of bringing us mis- 
fortune ; you are glad to be rid of him, yet you censure 
him for not wishing to be a burden on us in our 
poverty." 

" Oh ! our poverty ! " she mocked. 

" Yes, ma mie," he said sadly, " we are mighty poor. I 
have hardly a groschen left, and we are bound to offer 
hospitality and even to pay our courtiers." 

" Alas ! how great a loss is Schomberg ! " she answered. 
" I cannot cope with treasury accounts. Have we really 
so costly a retinue ? Yes, we have a dozen Court charges, 
and no Court ! Let us laugh and be merry ; gold will come 
to us from one source or t'other." 

" Yes," he said, " you are right ; all will yet be well. But, 
sweeting, I have not told you all my tidings yet," He 
paused ; she glanced at his face, and saw he had somewhat 
to relate which he knew would be unpleasant to her. 

" What is amiss ? " she asked quickly. 

" Nothing — nothing, on mine honour ! 'Tis only that 
I met the Haberstadter on the Vijverberg, and " 

" The Halberstadter ! " she interrupted, and a hot flush 
rose to her cheek, " I will not see that roisterer in mine 
house." 

" Dear heart," he said hesitatingly, " I could not be un- 
civil to a kinsman who would fain serve us well. He was 
very kindly and respectful to me ; his sister of Nassau 
has ever been right friendly to us ; and he is a goodly, 
well-looking youth." 

" I will not let him come to mine house. God wot ! 
both his mother and sister have suffered enough by reason 



262 THE WINTER QUEEN 

of his evil life. Friedrich,1 you have not bidden him to 
sup here ? " she asked. 

" Yes ! Ah ! by my soul, it has come to a pretty pass 
when I cannot offer hospitality when I will. Yes, madame, 
I have bidden Duke Christian of Brunswick, Lay Bishop 
of Halberstadt, to sup at mine house this day," he said, 
half in anger, half in pleasantry, altogether wishful to 
hide his embarrassment at having braved her displeasure. 
The Queen rose. 

"Your Majesty can do as your Majesty pleases in your 
own house," she said haughtily. 

" Oh ! be 'not wroth, my wondrous tyrant ! " he said 
imploringly, " 'Tis only this once that Duke Christian 
need darken your doors, ma mie." 

" You have bidden him, and he must e'en come ; but I 
shall not speak with him," she answered, as she swept 
from the room in anger. 

Friedrich stood silent. He could not comprehend the 
Queen's mood. Surely it could not harm her to sup with 
Christian of Brunswick ? Doubtless he was famed for 
his wild life, but the Queen was not wont to be intolerant ; 
many gallants of equal ill repute frequented the Hague, 
and she had not been thus harsh. Yet it seemed as if 
she had an especial grudge against the Halberstadter, as 
if he alone must bear the brunt of her righteous indig- 
nation. Well, the Halberstadter must sup once in her 
Majesty's house, and then Friedrich would eschew his 
company for the future. He sighed, and wandered out 
on the Voorhout beneath the shady lime trees, his mind 
full of perplexity at the whims and moods of even the 
wisest and best of women. 

The sun was setting in golden splendour, and a delicious 
coolness arose from the heavy dews which already lay on 
the flowers in the garden, while the leaves of the lime 
trees on the Voorhout thirstily drank in the freshness 
after the long glory of the spring day. In her Majesty's 
parlour the guests had already arrived, and were talking 
and laughing gaily, though all noticed the nervous rest- 



HOLLAND 263 

lessness of the King's manner, and that Elizabeth Stuart, 
too, seemed less gay than usual, even a trifle ill at ease 
and haughty. Mevrouw van der Myle, daughter of poor 
Olden Barnevelt, and owner of this house which the 
Estates had rented for the King of Bohemia's use, stood 
by the Queen, and the talk was of homely details — of how 
Mevrouw counselled her Majesty to change Prince Hal's 
sleeping-room to another apartment overlooking the gar- 
den ; and how in the autumn, when the damp mists rose 
from the canals, it would be wise to send the children 
away from the Hague for a few weeks. Though the 
Queen answered courteously, a sense that her Majesty's 
thoughts were really elsewhere froze the words on the 
good lady's lips. Amalia Solms, standing near the open 
window, was conversing with Frederik Hendrik, the 
Stadthouder's brother. 

" I trust the oppressive warmth of this day hath not 
wearied the gracious Countess," he was saying, 

"Nay, I find the Hague pleasantly cool after the 
furious heat of Prague," she made answer. 

" I am but too happy if your ladyship finds the Hague 
agreeable." 

Such was the courting of these most worthy persons. 
The human moths of the world love dully, but their grey 
words are doubtless poetry to them. Jacob Cats was 
entertaining a merry group of ladies at the farther side of 
the parlour. He told them quaint, homely proverbs of 
which his mind was the storehouse, and his kindly, wise 
brown eyes were alight with benignant amusement while 
he stroked his well-trimmed, pointed white beard. The 
King stood with Sir Dudley Carlton, Sir Francis Nether- 
sole, and a few Dutch gentlemen ; but his Majesty's 
random answers cast a chill upon the talk, and the guests 
began to wonder why her Majesty did not give the signal 
to repair to supper. 

" What is wrong ? " whispered Lady Carlton to Mistress 

Alison Hay. " Has the cook let the supper viands fall 

into the fire, or has the fish swum back to Scheveningen ? " 

"Nay, Dame Carlton," the girl answered, laughing, 



264 THE WINTER QUEEN 

"but there is anotlier guest invited to sup — Duke Christian 
of Brunswick." 

The good lady started. " The Halberstadter ? " she 
said incredulously. " Well, lack-a-day ! An we wait for 
him we shall sup at breakfast-time ! He is doubtless too 
busy with some evil-doing to remember the hour of the 
Queen's supper." 

As she spoke the door opened, and there entered a 
tall, svelt figure, in a green velvet tunic richly embroidered 
with gold. Duke Christian had a clear, olive complexion, 
and wore neither beard nor moustache ; his lips were full, 
but they closed so firmly that in repose his mouth seemed 
thin and cruel. He wore his brown hair cut short, and 
in spite of the mode, no curling love-locks fell on the 
plain, if delicate, linen of his ruff. It was a proud, 
almost forbidding, face ; the nose a trifle thick, but the 
nostrils were delicate and sensitive like those of a fiery, 
well-bred horse. The deep brown eyes were strangely 
sombre beneath the strongly marked black eyebrows. 

He came into the room quietly with a swift, light step ; 
then pausing, glanced round him. King Friedrich hurried 
forward and greeted him warmly, even ostentatiously, for 
his Majesty was ill at ease. The Halberstadter bowed low 
before this dethroned King. 

" There are few greater honours than to be your 
Majesty's guest," he said. 

" Cousin, it is a happy day for me when you honour 
my poor house," answered Friedrich, laying his hand 
affectionately on the Brunswicker's shoulder. He led 
him up to the Queen. 

" May I present your Majesty's close kinsman, Duke 
Christian of Brunswick ? " he said in a formal tone. 

" I greet your Highness well," returned Elizabeth Stuart 
coldly, and without vouchsafing him a glance, she held 
out her hand stiffly. The Halberstadter, bending low, 
kissed her finger-tips reverently, almost timidly. 

" Madame ma cousine, it has been the dream of my life 
to pay you homage," he said in a low, vibrant voice. She 
drew away her hand. 




Christian, Duke of Brunswick. 

From the painting by Miereveldt in the Earl of Craven s Collection at Combe Abbey 



HOLLAND 265 

" I trust your mother, my honoured aunt of Brunswick, 
is well, Bishop ? " she said distantly. He started. 

" I can lay no claim to clerical dignity, madame," he 
said quickly. " I thank your Majesty, my mother is well. 
Did she know the honour which hath befallen me this 
day, she would have sent your Majesty right loving 
greeting." The Queen bowed coldly. 

" When you return into Germany, sir, I pray you offer 
her Highness my humble duty," she said, and, turning 
away, she called to the painter Mierevelt. 

" Come, mijnheer, and tell me what new marvels you 
have painted. Ah ! instead of killing men, as soldiers do, 
how grand it is to make them live for ever by the magic 
of art ] " Her whole being seemed to have changed, as in 
a flash. When she had spoken with the Halberstadter 
she had been haughty almost to insolence ; with Mierevelt 
she was gracious, young, friendly. The Haberstadter 
stood silent. His eyes had grown hard ; they glistened 
like wet pebbles from the bed of a mountain stream. 
After a moment he turned away and greeted Mevrouw van 
der Myle and Lady Carlton. They responded nervously, 
yet with that fluttered interest which women accord to 
the man of evil repute. Jacob Cats smiled. 

" The virtuous dames are always flattered by the notice 
of the vicious man; it proves to them that they are 
virtuous by choice, not by necessity," he said to Nether- 
sole who was standing near him. 

At this moment the doors of her Majesty's supper 
parlour were thrown open. 

" Will you lead her Majesty, cousin ? " said the King, 
laying a friendly touch on the Halberstadter's shoulder. 
In chill silence Elizabeth Stuart gave her hand to Duke 
Christian, and with courtly grace they passed into the 
supper parlour followed by the guests. 

" Mijnheer Jacob shall sit near me ! " her Majesty cried, 
as she rose from the profound courtesy she had swept to 
the Halberstadter when he had brought her to the long, 
narrow supper table. 



266 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" Come, oh ! maker of proverbs ! and beguile my weari- 
ness witli your wisdom," she added, laughing. 

Am alia Solms and Frederik Hendrik were seated to- 
gether, exchanging the commonplaces which are the 
mating songs of such natures. The King sat opposite Eliza- 
beth Stuart, Frederik Hendrik on his right, and Mevrouw 
van der Myle on his left, Sir Dudley Carlton, Mistress 
Allison, Nethersole, Mistress Clovelly, Mistress Stanley, 
several Dutch gentlemen, the French envoy — a small, 
rotund personage weighted with all the importance of 
his busy mediocrity — Mierevelt and my Lady Phyllis. 
The Queen, turned towards Jacob Cats, seemed to have 
eyes and ears but for him; and the Halberstadter, on 
her right, was left to amuse himself as best he could, 
for my Lady Carlton, seated on his right, avoided him 
nervously, as though to speak with him would have 
spelled defilement to the neat honesty of her shrivelled, 
boxlike bosom, so carefully enshrined in the stiff white 
satin of her discreet corsage. She spoke in English 
with Sir Francis Nethersole, discussing English friends or 
mutual acquaintances, as though to have known my Lady 
This or my Lord That was so intimate a bond between 
Nethersole and her, as to be a barrier unscalable by the 
benighted foreigner who sat near them. 

Sometimes the King's melancholy eyes strayed ques- 
tioningly to Elizabeth Stuart. She was unlike herself 
to-night, unsmiling, formal, he thought. Ah ! how irk- 
some women were, to be sure, with their moods, their 
whimsies, their capricious condemnations of men ! After 
all, what did women know of a man's life ? It was ridi- 
culous for them to judge, he argued to himself. Hus- 
band-like, in order to improve an awkward situation, 
Friedrich assumed a condemnatory and aggrieved manner, 
and succeeded thereby in permeating the already chill 
atmosphere with an undefined sense of discomfort. Feel- 
ing this tacit hostility, this unspoken disapproval, Eliza- 
beth Stuart responded by a contradictory mood. Throw- 
ing off her unwonted formality, she became more than 
usual gay and full of talk, but she continued to address 



HOLLAND 267 

her remarks to Jacob Cats or across the table to 
Mevrouw van der Mjle, ignoring both the King and the 
Halberstadter. 

Now his Majesty addressed the Halberstadter, and they 
were soon deep in conversation anent military matters. 
Throughout supper Elizabeth Stuart was aware of her 
neighbour's deep voice. There was something singularly 
winning in its quietness. Angrily she reflected that it 
was unmannerly of the King — really churlish of the 
Halberstadter — thus to discuss tactics and strategics 
before her. 

" These German gallants think a woman cannot com- 
prehend anything that their own addled pates have 
learned," she said sharply to Mijnheer Cats. 

" Better that than to be ruled as slavishly as we Dutch- 
men are by our wives, perchance," he answered, laughing. 
" Why, madame, 'tis a very tyranny the good dames 
wield here." 

"Can there be no unity, no well-balanced friendship 
between man and woman ? " she asked, suddenly serious, 
half-ashamed of her hasty speech, for she knew well enough 
that she ruled King Friedrich absolutely. 

" Nay, while the world lasts there will be but one head 
in a house ; if you put two rulers in one kingdom the 
throne will soon be demolished ! One must rule, madame ; 
either the man must wear the petticoats and the dame 
don the breeks, or they must keep to their own roles. 
There must be a man and a woman in each house, but God 
knows which of 'em is which sometimes," he said, smiling. 
She laughed. 

" Well, I vow I will never talk military tactics, be I 
man or woman ! " she said. 

" People who practise home tactics seldom discuss 
them," he answered shrewdly. " Show me the dame who 
talks of gallantry, and I'll answer for it she hath ne'er 
been courted ! I warrant your Majesty is a finer strategian, 
off the battlefield, than any of us are upon it ! " 

Against her will Elizabeth Stuart, though she bantered 
thus with Cats, heard the Halberstadter's quiet voice all 



268 THE WINTER QUEEN 

the time, and though she tried studiously to avert her 
eyes, ever and anon she glanced at his hand which he 
often laid upon the table. She noted how large and strong 
it looked ; marvelled at its whiteness and the blue veins 
which showed so plainly on it, at the uncommon short- 
ness of the thumb accompanying those long, pointed, 
nervous fingers. Through the strength of the hand there 
seemed to be a curious delicacy and refinement. She told 
herself that there was something cruel and brutal about 
it; and a little shiver ran through her — a shiver of disgust, 
as she thought. 

" Madame ma cousine," came the quiet voice, " may 
I drink to you ? " 

She started and felt an unaccustomed flush invade her 
cheeks and mount to her brow. She turned to the 
Halberstadter. He was bending towards her with his 
glass in his hand. Suddenly she was ashamed. She had 
behaved like a sullen, unmannerly child, and now she was 
blushing like a silly hoyden, she thought. 

" Monseigneur, let us drink together to another Eliza- 
beth, to your noble mother Elizabeth of Brunswick," she 
said, her habitual charm of manner conquering her ill 
humour. 

" To my mother ! " he said, " and to my Queen ! " he 
added earnestly. 

She took her glass, and, according to the German mode, 
held it to his and the brims touched with a gentle clink ; 
then, as she raised the glass to her lips, their eyes met for 
the first time, met and lingered for a full moment as they 
drank. 

" I thank your Majesty ! " he said formally and coldly ; 
but she noticed how his strong, right hand trembled as 
he set down his glass, and how his left hand, which lay 
on the table near her, was clenched so fiercely that the 
blue veins stood out and the knuckles grew yellow with 
the force of his grip. 



CHAPTER XVI 

THE SUPPER IN THE WOOD 

" Que se passait-il dans nos ames ? 
Amour ! amour ! " 

DURING the days following the supper the Halber- 
stiidter was a constant visitor at the house on the 
Lange Voorhout, and the Queen raised no protest 
at his presence, though, save the words of formal greeting, 
she rarely spoke to him ; and to King Friedrich she 
never mentioned his name without some scornful 
allusion to his ill fame. It was : " Your Majesty's dear 
friend, the housebreaker," or " Your noble companion, the 
burgher's terror," "That lover of orgies, my reputable 
kinsman," and the like. To her ladies she vowed she 
disapproved of the Halberstadter. 

" Think you that I am deceived by his quiet manner ? 
He may be mighty civil, but some day we shall see a 
pretty scene enacted by his fierce temper," she would say. 
One day a story came to her ears which, she informed 
Friedrich, proved the Halberstadter to be a desperado and 
not a fit person to enter a decent house. It was recounted 
how, chancing to be sitting in the " Golden Head " tavern 
opposite the Halstraatje, he had watched a crowd of 
bravos quarreling ; it had been a common drunken 
revel of no account, and surely no affair of his. How- 
ever, it was said that, unable to resist the amusement of 
a brawl, he had dashed into the group and had laid hands 
on one of the men, who had turned on the intruder with 
the sudden fury of the drunken ; whereupon the Halber- 
stadter had shot the man down in cold blood, and, 
having thus sated his horrible lust, had walked calmly 
away whistling a tune. This exploit had occurred since 



270 THE WINTER QUEEN 

his friendship with King Friedrich, and her Majesty 
vowed that she would tolerate his presence no more. 

" But, dearling, do not condemn a man for the sake of 
an unproven story," the King said. " Ask him yourself 
what he did. I make sure it is only a trumped-up 
scandal. Ask him, sweet Bess, I pray you." 

" And, if he cannot disprove this sorry tale, will you vow 
me he shall enter this house no more ? " she said. The 
King sighed; he had taken a marvelous liking for the 
Halberstadter, but, as usual, he gave in to Elizabeth. 

" If this thing is true, I will have naught to do with 
Christian of Brunswick," he said. 

That evening there was a ball at the Binnenhof, and 
after the second pavyn her Majesty withdrew into the 
deep embrasure of one of the windows overlooking the 
Vijver. Mistress Alison Hay and several of the Queen's 
other ladies followed ; not my lady of Solms, for she was 
talking with Frederik Hendrik as usual. 

" See the future of Holland," said the Queen, laughing. 
" Our dear Amalia will make a fitting chatelaine for this 
most solid and comfortable Binnenhof." 

" There will be wedding-bells, I think, indeed, madame ! 
Lord ! how wearily sober a Court 'twill be ! " said Mistress 
Alison maliciously. 

" Nay, be not too harsh ; they will make a goodly 
couple. Every kettle hath its lid, and 'twould be but a 
sorry thing to put a kettle lid on a porcelain jar ! It 
often happens, alack ! but then both jar and lid are ill at 
ease," the Queen said lightly. She glanced round the 
panelled room, and her eyes fell on the Halberstadter, 
who was standing silently leaning against the door-post. 
His face was grave and pale, and his eyes were fixed 
on Elizabeth Stuart with something so unutterably sad 
in their steady gaze that she felt a quick pang of com- 
passion for this " wild desperado." As her eyes met his, 
he started and turned away. 

" Alison, I would speak with Duke Christian of Bruns- 
wick. Ask him to come to me here," she said. The girl 
looked surprised, but went on her errand without comment. 



THE SUPPER IN THE WOOD 271 

" I have that to say to my cousin which only four ears 
may hear," the Queen said to her other ladies, dismissing 
them. She was alone when the Halberstadter came to her. 

" Your Highness will marvel that I have summoned 
you," she said abruptly, and fixed her eyes full on his 
face. He made no response save for a deep bow. 

" I have somewhat to say, and on your answer depends 
whether or no his Majesty and I can offer you hospitality 
in the future. Have I your Highness's word that I shall 
hear the truth ? " 

" Madame, among the sorry names that your Majesty 
has heard given me, has the title of liar been meted out ? " 
he said coldly, but his eyes had grown hard, and she 
knew that no man on earth would have gone unpunished 
for speaking thus to him. 

" Have I your word, cousin ? " she repeated firmly, 
though it cost her an effort to steady her voice. The 
man frightened her, she realised with a sense of surprise. 

'•Your Majesty has my word of honour," he said 
quietly. 

" I have heard the history of your brawl a few days 
since at the ' Golden Head ' tavern. I ask your High- 
ness if it is true ? " she said. 

" Perfectly true, madame," he answered calmly. 

"You dare tell me openly that you interfered for no 
reason in a drunken quarrel ; that you shot a man in cold 
blood, and went home whistling a merry tune ? " she 
said. " You dare tell me this ? And you came to my 
house an hour afterwards and were treated like an 
honest gentleman ? " 

" I interfered in a drunken quarrel, madame ; and I 
shot a man dead before the ' Golden Head ' tavern," he 
said proudly; "but neither did I do so without reason, 
nor in cold blood. The man had just beaten his dog to 
death, and I shot him as men shoot a mad dog. I trust 
I may never see such a dastard act and my blood stay 
cold ; and I know I shall kill any man who does so foul 
a thing when I am by." 

" That is a far different tale, sir cousin ! " she cried, with 



272 THE WINTER QUEEN 

flashing eyes. " I, too, would kill — " she stopped short. 
" Was the dog dead ? Poor beast, poor beast ! " her eyes 
filled with tears. 

" Yes, madame," he said coldly, and with a profound 
bow he turned and left her. 

For a few moments the Queen remained alone in the 
embrasure, her thoughts were in a turmoil. The Halber- 
stadter's words had struck that chord which no Stuart 
could resist — the chord of their passionate love of animals, 
and their generous wrath at whosoever lifted a cruel 
hand against the beloved dumb servitors of man. She 
knew that never again could she treat Christian of Bruns- 
wick as an outcast ; no man who felt thus could be entirely 
vile. Then in a flash she remembered how Friedrich had 
wantonly ridden his horse to death- — — 

She hurried into the crowd in the dancing-hall. 
" Come ! let us dance a Branle a la Haye ! We've had 
enough of the solemn pavyns ! I pray you, my Lord 
Stadthouder ! " she cried, turning to Maurice of Orange, " I 
pray you, order a boisterous roundel ! I am weary of the 
stately measures ! " 

As June wore on, the Queen seemed to have grown 
strangely shy of Christian of Brunswick, but her hostility 
of manner changed to a distant friendliness, varied even 
by a half-bantering, capricious tone. She often addressed 
him as though he were really Bishop of Halberstadt, 
calling him " Hochwiirden," and tormenting him about his 
pastoral duties. The Halberstadter at first answered her, 
explaining that he was only the administrator of the 
bishopric, and that he had nought to do with church 
matters ; but, seeing she paid no heed to his explanations, 
he ceased to respond. She noted that the bantering 
fretted him, for his brown face flushed and his eyes took 
that hard look " like brown-leather buttons," as she told 
the King one day when describing how the Halberstadter 
appeared when he was angry. It was evident that his dis- 
pleasure added zest to her mischievous spirit, for she rallied 
him the more. Yet she vowed that she disapproved of 



THE SUPPER IN THE WOOD 273 

the Halberstadter, albeit slae never wearied of hearing 
accounts of his wild life. 

" What was that history concerning the husband who 
was flung out of the window ? " she would say, and then 
they told her again how Christian had been surprised 
with the wife of the Burgomaster of Haarlem, and how 
this reverend personage, when he had dared upbraid his 
faithful spouse, had been heaved out of his own bed- 
chamber window by the Halberstadter. The story went 
that Christian had been heard to say he would serve any 
man in the same fashion who dared offer insult to a 
woman in his presence, and that because a poor dame was 
mated with a brute it was no reason for a cavalier to stand 
by and hear her affronted. Still, it was an ugly tale, 
though there were darker ones concerning him. Never- 
theless, it seemed that Elizabeth Stuart took a veritable 
delight in hearing of the pranks played by her kinsman; 
and the King had vowed him a warm admiration and 
friendship. Christian was all that he, Friedrich, would 
have wished to have been, and the reports of the Halber- 
stadter's violence only served to increase the radiance of 
the aureole he wore in the King's vision ; for Friedrich, 
being incurably mild, adored violence. Yet to pacify the 
Queen he was eager in his refutation of the scandalous 
histories. But the Queen frowned ; she did not want the 
histories to be refuted ; she certainly disapproved of the 
Halberstadter. 

Towards midsummer evil tidings came from Prague, 
and into the comfortable commonplace of the life at 
the Hague there crept a sense of brooding disaster and 
sadness. The Emperor had promised full pardon to the 
Bohemians, if they laid down their swords and returned to 
their allegiance to the Empire. No hint of impending 
retribution was given, and though Thurn, Hohenlohe, and 
several other Czechish gentlemen had deemed a few years' 
voluntary exile to be the safer course, many had remained 
on their estates in Bohemia trusting in Ferdinand's promise. 
At first no harsh measures had been adopted towards the 
" repentant rebels," as they were called, but then, without 

S 



274 THE WINTER QUEEN 

warning, they had been summoned before an Imperial 
tribunal at Prague, where they were accused of high treason. 
Old Schlick, my lord of Czernin, Budova, Harrant of 
Polzic, and a score of others including Doctor Jansenius, the 
scholar who had written King Friedrich's pamphlets con- 
cerning the Bohemian crown, were condemned to torture 
and death ; and though they affirmed that they were con- 
quered foes, not traitorous conspirators, the cruel sentences 
were consummated on the market-place at Prague. They 
died bravely, one and all, and though the Emperor had 
caused a hundred drummers to be stationed round the 
scaffold to drown by their noise the last speeches of the 
Bohemian patriots, still some faithful ones managed to 
hear and had delivered these last messages of loving 
loyalty to King Friedrich at the Hague. 

A more terrible situation can scarce be imagined for an 
honest man than that into which Friedrich was forced. 
Here were men dying for him ; here was an army under 
Mansfeld in the field in his name ; and here he was bound 
to inaction by the promise extorted from him by King 
James that he would not undertake a fresh campaign 
while the ambassadors in Vienna were negotiating a 
compromise. Poor Winter King ! He was doomed 
to the agony of uselessness. All his life he had had 
occupation — he had called it work — with State affairs, and 
now he was face to face with the emptiness of his own 
soul, that emptiness which idleness alone can fully reveal 
to us. Added to this was the bitter knowledge that the 
whole world either laughed at him, sneered at him, or 
blamed him. It was said that he had lighted a fire which 
consumed his friends, and that he stayed afar in safety 
and watched them burn. The flood of lampoons and 
caricatures taught him what was said of him, he could 
not escape knowledge of them, for they were nailed on 
every wall in the Hague, and lightheartedly the populace 
sang the refrains of the ribald, mocking songs in the narrow 
streets. Elizabeth Stuart, if she still caused the printed 
sheets to be brought to her, hid them now or did not 
mention them to Friedrich. Indeed, although she raged 



THE SUPPER IN THE WOOD 275 

and sorrowed at the Bohemians' cruel fate, it seemed far off 
to her just then. It was a new world to her, all was new 
— she — Friedrich — the glory of summer — all had been 
reborn, she knew not why. Though there were clouds 
enough to overshadow her, though she played her part 
with dignity and fitting thought for all, yet it was as 
though she had never lived before. She told herself 
that it was thus with her because the human heart reverts 
to joyousness and youth, all the more strongly after an 
o'erdarkened spell. 

Her Majesty of Bohemia deigned to accept the hospi^ 
tality of Mevrouw van Half Wassenaar at an alfresco 
supper beneath the beech-trees of the Bosch. Far from 
the town of the Hague, deep in the wood, was an avenue 
of beeches, whose hoary age recalled the legend that this 
was the sacred grove which had surrounded a Roman 
temple long before the noble plaisance, the Bosch, had 
become the ill-famed Schalkenbosch, so named because 
it had been the haunt of robber bands and outlaws. But 
in the year of grace sixteen hundred and twenty-one the 
Bosch, now a wooded park, had become the resort of 
the fashionable world at the Hague. The burghers and 
their portly spouses preferred to pace at their leisure in 
the alleys beneath the lime-trees on the Lange Voorhout, 
watching the unwieldy carosses of the great lumber down 
the centre drive — those quaint carosses with their prancing 
arch-necked steeds decked with an amplitude of emblazoned 
trappings and with nodding plumes upon their aristocratic 
heads ; the carosses with lumpy leather tops and leather 
curtains instead of glass in their windows, with finely 
painted panels, and with small front wheels and enormous 
spindly hind wheels, whose disproportion caused the clumsy 
vehicles to sway and jolt over the uneven road. Yet who 
was not proud to own such an equipage ? It was the 
latest mode, and so costly that only the wealthy great 
could dream of possessing such a conveyance. The 
burghers' dames still went a-travelling safely strapped 
behind stout riders on trustworthy, cautious nags, and they 



276 THE WINTER QUEEN 

viewed with awe and deliglit the caresses thundering down 
the Lange Voorhout. Thus the Bosch was left to the 
ladies and gallants, and the shady glades were generally 
peopled by a gaily clad throng of courtly personages. 

And here on that summer evening Mevrouw van Half 
Wassenaar's alfresco feast was to take place. The tables 
were spread beneath the beech-trees, in whose boughs 
twinkled tiny lamps, while, discreetly hidden in the wood, 
musicians discoursed soft melodies. The guests arrived, 
a galaxy of fashion, gentlemen with the newest patterns 
of embroidered doublets sent to them from Paris, with 
the latest mode of broad Spanish hat, the last-invented 
trick of fastening: the Flemish boots around the knee ; 
ladies who had learned that the fardingale was banished 
from the world, who knew that none could appear now 
save in voluminous flowing skirts ; that the rebatoe was a 
moribund monster, and that in Paris the deep turned- 
down lace collar was the sign of a lady, not only of 
quality, but of fashion. 

Now her Majesty of Bohemia's carosse swung down the 
avenue — alas ! not her Majesty's own carosse, for, as all the 
world knew, the Winter Queen, albeit she kept a stud of 
horses, loving them too well to be bereft of these at least, 
still she owned no coaches, though hy her uncle Maurice 
of Orange's liberality and courtesy she had the use of 
the Stadthouder's equipages. But what mattered it ? 
Her Majesty was only making a short sojourn in Holland, 
pending her triumphal return to the splendours of Prague 
or of Heidelberg, And why remember unpleasant trifles 
— war, death, poverty, and the like — on such a summer 
evening and at such a merry feast ? Sure, her Majesty 
had banished care ; for how radiant she looked in her 
ivory satin gown, with the large lace collar which fell 
away and showed the pearl-like whiteness of her throat 
and bosom, where the blue veins traced so wondrous a 
poem of youth. Her brown eyes were full of light ; it 
seemed to the Halberstadter, as he bowed over her hand 
when she alighted from her coach, that never had he seen 
her so beautiful — and that light in her eyes ? 



THE SUPPER IN THE WOOD 277 

"Most reverend cousin! Ah! what a glorious feast, 
and yet methinks these are worldly doings for a bishop ! 
Mevrouw van Wassenaar, you have magicked a fairyland 
here ! Ah 1 see, there go Amalia and my Lord of 
Orange ! " She was lighthearted as a young maiden this 
night, and, God wot, her twenty-five summers were no 
heavy burden to her. She seemed the youngest of all 
her ladies, though the quaint wisdom of her quips told 
that her wit had grown more subtle by the teaching of 
experience and of sorrow. 

Even the King was merry that night, and he paid court 
to the ladies with so good a grace that they vowed him a 
pretty gallant. 

Soon the supper ended, and from the wood there came 
the lilt of a galliard tune. It was the same melody which 
the wandering musicians had played at the Star Palace 
scarcely a year since. For a moment the Queen's gay 
spirit drooped. 

" Ah ! God ! why must they let me hear that melody 
to-day ? " she murmured ; "just to-day ? " 

" And why not just to-day, sweet madame ? " said my 
Lady Phyllis wonderingly. " We can never forget ! " The 
girl's voice grew husky, and her eyes were veiled in tears. 

" We must ever remember, and I would not wish to 
forget," said the Queen, " And yet — and yet " 

" Madame ma cousine, will you pace a measure with 
me ? " said a deep, quiet voice. She started. 

" Ah, sir ! I would not dance this galliard," she said. 
They stood together beneath the beech-trees ; my Lady 
Phyllis had wandered away, the other ladies were dancing, 
the King and a group of gallants were making merry 
near the supper-table. Elizabeth Stuart and the Hal- 
berstadter were alone. 

" Your Majesty hath grown sad since this galliard hath 
rung out," he said. 

" How know you that ? " she answered haughtily. She 
drew herself a little further from him ; her whole being 
seemed to say that her sadness or her joy was naught to 
him, yet she knew that she awaited his answer impatiently. 



278 THE WINTER QUEEN 

As he remained silent she glanced at him. He stood 
beside her immovable as a statue ; she could only see his 
profile, for he was looking straight before him. The 
galliard ended, and still they stood there silently. 

" Madame, I pray you pace this measure with me ! " he 
said as another tune rang out -, " or is it your Majesty's 
will that I should bring another gallant to crave this 
honour ? " 

" Nay," she answered ; then again her mischievous spirit 
returned, and she cried, " and yet. Sir Cousin, since 
when do reverend pastors dance ? Your mitre would fall 
off ? I trow 'tis better to dance with a cavalier than with 
a bishop ! " He turned on her suddenly. 

" Enough ! " he said sternly. " I have heard too much 
of this fool banter. I will hear no more ! " His eyes 
had grown to a curious colour as of tarnished steel, and 
he held her by his glance strangely. For an instant 
they stood like two fierce animals preparing to fight to 
the death. Tall man as he was, her eyes were almost 
on a level with his, for she had inherited the great height 
of Marie Stuart. Her eyes fell before his. 

" Cousin," she said with feigned lightness, " tell me, 
own to me, that you do but masquerade as a cavalier ? " 
She paused ; somehow she had no heart for silly quips 
just then, and no laughing word came to the summons of 
her will. 

" Do you bid me to cease masquerading ? " he asked, and 
there was that in his voice which thrilled her, making 
her heart to beat wildly and a rush of hot blood to throb 
in her temples. 

" Yes," she answered, and she scarce knew that she 
had spoken. 

" Elizabeth ! Queen of my life ! " he said, and he 
spoke more in command than in prayer. " Elizabeth, 
cease masquerading thou, too ! " 

She said no word, but she laid her hand on her white 
bosom as though to still her unwonted breathlessness. 

" Beloved ! beloved ! " he said. She was compelled to 
look at him, and in that look was revealed to her why 



THE SUPPER IN THE WOOD 279 

the world, tlie glory of sumraer, why all things were new 
to her. 

" Come and dance, cousin," she said tremulously. 

" And if my bishop's mitre should fall off ? " he 
whispered, but she made no answer save to hold out her 
hand for him to lead her to the dance. For an instant 
he looked at her, and it seemed as though his eyes drew 
her to him ; then he took her hand quietly, but in so 
fierce a grasp that she almost called aloud in pain. 

" Do I hurt you ? " he asked. 

"Yes," she murmured, but she let her hand rest 
in his. 

" Christian ! " she said, and he bent to her. " Christian!" 
she whispered yet a second time. 



CHAPTER XVII 

"AS NEVER MAN HATH LOVED BEFORE" 

..." And on 

Her voice I hung like fruit among green leaves ; 

Her lips were all my own, and — ah, ripe sheaves 

Of happiness ! ye on the stubble droop. 

But never may be garner'd. I must stoop 

My head, and kiss death's foot ! Love ! love, farewell ! " 

— Keats. 

IOVE lias a calendar of his own, a strange and seem- 
, ingly erratic system of counting days and hours. 
^ Sometimes he writes down a year for an hour, and 
sometimes into an hour he reckons joy or pain sufficient 
to fill long years. 

For Elizabeth Stuart the summer months seemed a life- 
time, and yet the days passed with the swift unreality of 
a dream. She was quieter than of yore ; in the midst of 
laughter and gay talk she would grow suddenly abstracted. 
It was said that some new plan was afoot whereof the 
Queen was cognisant ; it was whispered that she projected 
a journey to England, or that she had tidings out of 
Germany, which foretold her return to Heidelberg, or 
to Prague. Good tidings for sure, for she had grown more 
beautiful than she had ever been, and the throng of wor- 
shippers round her were more than ever enthralled by her 
glowing charm. 

The twelve years' truce having expired, Maurice of 
Orange was occupied with preparations for a campaign 
against the Spaniards, and King Friedrich, over-weary of 
the life at the Hague, proclaimed his intention of joining 
Maurice's forces. Elizabeth Stuart protested vehemently; 
it was as though she durst not let him go. She reminded 
him of his promise to King James ; she contended that it 



"AS NEVER MAN HATH LOVED BEFORE" 281 

was madness, for it would render useless the embassy at 
Vienna ; she vowed that it was unsuitable for a crowned 
monarch to fight as though he were a soldier of fortune ; 
she pleaded with him, she upbraided him ; she even quoted 
Louise Juliane's written opinion on the subject, and, when 
a woman quotes her husband's mother, 'tis sure she must 
be in pressing need of support. But, for once, Friedrich 
was obdurate. She had told him so often that his 
will was strong, that he had begun to believe it himself, 
and now he viewed his obstinacy as an exhibition of his 
forceful nature. 

Albeit he did not actually pitch his tent in Maurice of 
Orange's camp, he spent many days with the army, and 
it was no unusual occurrence for him to send excuses for 
not returning to sleep in the house on the Lange Voor- 
hout ; there was a parade the following morning which he 
would fain attend — there was a muster of his squadron — 
there was this, there was that. 

Elizabeth Stuart, as was her habit once a thing was 
settled, made no further demur, and the life at the Hague 
went on its accustomed quiet course. The Halberstadter 
was still in the town, being in command of a troop of 
Dutch horse stationed at the Hague. The first days of the 
King's absence he avoided the house on the Lange Voor- 
hout, but Elizabeth Stuart told him before the King, when 
the latter returned, that she deemed it unkinsmanly of 
him thus to desert her. 

" Truly, cousin, 'tis but a poor chivalry you offer me," 
she said. They were in the oaken parlour, the windows 
stood open and the evening air wafted in a fragrancy of 
roses. The King was dallying with the English ladies ; 
my Lady Phyllis, seated near, held her lute upon her 
knee. She had been singing, and the King was laughing 
with her about the words of her song. 

" ' Gather ye rosebuds while ye may ' ; yes, yes, my 
Lady Phyllis, 'tis nigh past your first bloom. Fie ! sweet 
Phyllis, I vow you are in the June of your life already and 
still unwed ! " he cried. 

" Your Majesty should find a gallant for me, then," she 



282 THE WINTER QUEEN 

retorted; "but you take them all away to your dull 
camp." 

" I leave you the Halberstadter, what more can you 
demand ? Why, sir," he said, turning to Christian, " here 
is a fair damosel who says she's deserted ! " 

" Yes, I have just told his Highness of Brunswick that 
'tis unmannerly thus to flout us ! " cried the Queen. " But 
he deems it unseemly to come hither when your Majesty 
is not by to control us. Ritter Christel was not thus ! " 
she added, turning to the Halberstadter. " He was a per- 
fect cavalier ! " 

" I am a soldier, madame," answered the Halberstadter 
gravely. 

" Well said, cousin," cried Friedrich, laughing. " Never- 
theless, as your superior in military rank, I command you 
to be on guard at my palace during my absence." The 
Halberstadter shot him a quick glance. 

" Your Majesty shall be obeyed," he said, with a strange 
smile. 

Thus it fell out that the Halberstadter was in constant 
attendance on her Majesty. Each morning they rode at 
the head of a gay cavalcade, passing over the Buitenhof 
and down the narrow streets past the Fish Market hard 
by the sombre Groote Kerke, and out into the smiling, 
canal-crossed country fields. Daily he sat at dinner and 
supper beside her Majesty, and her ladies whispered that 
the Halberstadter was becoming a second Ritter Christel. 
My Lady Phyllis laughingly mentioned this to the Queen 
— a harmless jest enough, but Elizabeth Stuart turned on 
her with sudden anger. 

" How dare you speak thus to me ? " she cried. " When 
will you learn that one friend can never take another's 
place? That is the unwisdom of jealousy ! Each hath his 
own place in a life, and it regards no one who takes a place 
beside him. I hate this talk of one friend ousting another ! " 

My Lady Phyllis gazed at the Queen in surprise. 

" Why, madame, I meant no more than a foolish jest," 
she said. " Only your Majesty was so harsh about Duke 
Christian at first." 



"AS NEVER MAN HATH LOVED BEFORE" 283 

" I am still harsh — I still deem his Highness of Bruns- 
wick — all that I said he was at first," she answered, but 
she avoided my Lady Phyllis' eyes, and busied herself 
disentangling her jewelled chain which had caught in the 
lace of her falling collar. 

One day the Queen of Bohemia's Court (so they called 
the merry company which was wont to gather round the 
exiled Queen) had been on a gay excursion to the little 
town of Delft. They had wandered about the quaint 
streets for an hour, had marvelled at the gaunt immensity 
of the church tower, and then had returned in barges 
down the broad canal to the Hague. The Halberstadter 
had been more than usually silent and sombre, and 
Elizabeth Stuart had pestered him with a hundred jests 
until even my Lady Phyllis had taken pity on him, and 
had called him to her side. His sister, the Countess 
Sophie of Nassau, was of the party, and she had often 
glanced anxiously at her brother's clouded brow. 

" Ma reine, my brother Christian is a dangerous target 
for the shafts of pleasantry," she had said. " I marvel 
that he bears it even as he does. Alack ! poor, mad 
Halberstadter, as they call him, I think he hath found 
the hand that can tame him." She had spoken meaningly, 
but Elizabeth Stuart had hastily turned the talk to 
another theme. 

Now the whole company was partaking of late supper 
at the house on the Voorhout. The Halberstadter was 
seated beside her Majesty. Right merrily the talk and 
laughter went on, and Elizabeth Stuart was in her gayest 
vein. Jacob Cats was there as usual, Nethersole, Frederik 
Hendrik, Sir Dudley Carlton, Amalia Solms, the English 
ladies, a few Bohemian exiles, and a number of Dutch 
gallants. The King was absent at the camp, 

When the supper ended, of course the English ladies 
called for a dance, and soon the melodies of the galliard, 
the branle, and the couranto echoed into the stillness of 
the night. Elizabeth Stuart vowed it was too hot to 
dance, and, taking my Lady of Nassau's arm, she wandered 
out into the garden. The air was laden with the perfume 



284 THE WINTER QUEEN 

of the last lime-blossoms, a heavy, languorous scent. For 
some time the ladies paced together along the narrow 
garden pathways, breathing in the fragrance. Then two 
figures appeared in the light in the doorway. 

" Ah ! your Grace of Nassau, have I found the cruel 
truant who had vowed to tread a pavyn with me this 
night ? A heartless desertion of a poor exiled English- 
man, indeed ! " cried one, as the Queen and Sophie of 
Nassau came in sight. 

" Alack ! Sir Dudley, you will not rob me of my com- 
rade ? " said the Queen, laughing. 

" Yea, madame, so I will if her ladyship will retrieve 
the faith of faithless womanhood and dance with me," he 
answered stoutly. The first bars of a pavyn rang out, 
and the Queen waved the dancers away. 

" Go and labour to divert yourselves ; I will stay here 
with my honoured cousin of Brunswick for a space. Ah ! 
I am right weary with our jaunt to-day ! " she said. The 
Countess of Nassau and Carlton hurried away. 

" I trust your Highness is not loth to spend a short 
half -hour here in the coolness with me?" Elizabeth Stuart 
said after a long pause, durmg which they had paced the 
short length of the garden twice. They had not spoken 
alone since that evening at the alfresco feast. He stood 
still and held out both his hands towards her. 

" Love of my life ! " he said, " have mercy — do not 
mock me now. Listen ! I leave Holland soon." 

" Leave Holland ? " she said. " Why ? Where do you 
go ? What will you do ? " 

" I love a woman madly," he said in a low voice. 
" She is a queen, and I go to reconquer her realm for 
her." She laid her hands in his. 

" I cannot let you go," she said tremulously. " Ah ! 
you bid me to cease masquerading once, tell me, are you 
playacting now ? Christian, I cannot let you go." 

" Yet I must go. God ! do you think I can live on for 
ever as I am living now ? " he broke out. 

" I would fain live on for ever thus," she said slowly. 

" No man can bear it ! " he answered fiercely ; " yes, 



"AS NEVER MAN HATH LOVED BEFORE" 285 

they call me the mad Halberstiidter, and I shall merit the 
name if I linger here. You are a woman — you are no 
foolish maiden — Elizabeth, do you not know that a man's 
love is no child's play ? My love is no light thing — no 
boy's fancy for a pretty face ! I tell you that no man can 
bear it ! " She felt how his whole body quivered, she 
heard his breath come thick and fast ; his grip hurt her ; 
but she, too, held his hands almost as strongly. Through 
the open windows the lilt of the pavyn melody came to 
them and the sound of the laughing voices, but the street 
beyond the garden was deserted and they were alone, 
save for the heavy scent of the lime-blossom, which 
seemed to be a languorous presence breathing near them. 

Slowly he drew her to him, and, gathering her hands, he 
held them imprisoned with both of his against his breast. 
They spoke no word, for passion is always silent — passion 
which says what no words can tell — passion whereof the 
poets have tried to whisper during untold ages. 

They stood there immovable, held by their own rap- 
ture, and their eyes drew their souls together; their 
breath came fast. The pavyn was ending, the final 
chords rang out. 

" When ? Belovfed. Have mercy — tell me ! " he 
whispered, so close that his lips almost touched hers. 

" To-night," she said. " Christian — I " 

" Where is Her Majesty ? She will catch an ague in 
this cold ! " came Amalia Solms' voice, and she appeared in 
the doorway carrying the Queen's velvet cloak on her arm. 

" Oh ! madame," she cried, as she saw the Queen 
approaching beside the Halberstadter, " I crave your 
Majesty's forgiveness ; you must have been chilled to 
death without your cloak." 

" Nay," said the Queen, " I am not chilled," and she 
re-entered the house with a half-humorous, half-piteous 
smile on her lips. 

The Queen's bedchamber was on the ground floor, near 
a little door opening on to the garden. It was a spacious 
apartment, oaken-panelled and lofty, with a carven over- 



286 THE WINTER QUEEN 

mantel and a deep, tiled fireplace. The curtains were of 
that rich viol-brown velvet which the Queen loved ; the 
hangings of the large four-posted bed were of brown, but 
relieved by a wealth of gold and silver, emblazoning the 
royal arms of Bohemia and the Palatinate, encircled by 
the blue ribbon of the garter. 

" All that we have left of the Garter is here," the Queen 
was wont to say, " since my Lord King dropped the 
ribbon at the Strahow Gate after the battle." It was 
bitter to King Friedrich when she spoke thus, for he 
raged at the knowledge that Maximilian of Bavaria had 
bought the diamond Garter for a mean price from a Polish 
soldier, who had chanced to find the jewel, which Friedrich 
had lost when he had ridden back to the Hradcany Palace 
to bid Elizabeth Stuart fly before the Imperial conquerors. 
That Maximilian the Astute should own the Garter was 
galling to the unfortunate King. 

The Queen's room was sombre ; yet there was a certain 
repose in the tone of the whole apartment, and it suited 
Elizabeth Stuart, whose eyes were so strangely similar in 
colour to the viol-brown which she affected in her dress, 
as in the furnishings of her house. Then, too, the brown 
showed up the transparent whiteness of her skin, and 
the delicate flush, like to the glow of a wild-rose petal, 
which lay on her fresh young cheek. 

That summer night, as she sat before her silver mirror, 
she seemed like a matchless pearl, which some ingenious 
jeweller had set in a sombre background to enhance the 
sheen of its marvelous whiteness. In the light of the 
waxen candles beside her mirror, she saw that her eyes 
were shining, that her lips were more than usual red, 
and she deemed that the secret in her heart must be 
written in letters of flame upon her flushed face for all 
the world to read. The tiring-woman was smoothing 
out the thick coils of the Queen's hair, and Elizabeth 
Stuart fancied that the woman's eyes scrutinised her 
inquisitively in the mirror. 

" Ah yes ! " she told herself, " she who goes from out 
the safe paths of life must bear the rude stare of the 



"AS NEVER MAN HATH LOVED BEFORE" 287 

curious." It struck her that her whole demeanour that 
night must have appeared unusual. It was her habit 
to be assisted in her unrobing by at least two of her 
ladies, but this evening she had dismissed them curtly, 
saying she was weary and the tiring- woman could attend 
to her. 

" Have my ladies retired to their sleeping apart- 
ments ? " she asked the woman abruptly. " Go and bid 
them be ready betimes to-morrow, for I would ride out 
early. I forgot to mention this to their ladyships." The 
woman went on her errand. The Queen leaned her 
elbows on the table and rested her face in her hands. 
Her cheeks burned feverishly, and her hands were cold 
as ice. What was she going to do — she, the mother of 
little Hal ? No ! it could never be — and yet — and yet, 
how delicious was this cup of life, this draught of passion 
which would soon be offered to her. Was she to go 
through the long years without knowing the joy of love ? 
She had loved King Friedrich, and she loved him still ; 
but it had always been duty, acquiescence, kindliness, the 
wish to give him what he craved. She had never been 
stirred by passion before ; now she knew how the touch 
of a hand can give such rapture that all the world grows 
dim and far off; now she knew what Friedrich meant 
when he had said : " C'est du feu que tu me verses dans 
les veines ! " She marveled he could have felt this, and 
that she had known nothing of it. Surely, surely this 
ecstasy of life should not be wasted ? If God sends us 
rapture shall we not take it ? 

" Christian ! " she murmured, and a tremor went 
through her, a tremor so potent that she drew a quick, 
sobbing breath as of pain. A voice came close to her, 
and she started violently. 

" The ladies are a-bed, your Majesty. My Lady Phyllis 
has given commands that they should be wakened early 
to-morrow. The other ladies were already asleep," the 
tiring-woman said. Her voice sounded drowsy and 
affronted, as though she resented that others should 
slumber while she was forced to labour. 



288 THE AVINTEK QUEEN 

"Yes, it grows late/'said lier Majesty ; "you may leave me 
now — I need nothing more." The woman looked surprised. 

" Your Majesty's hair " she began. 

" I will bind it up myself later," the Queen answered 
impatiently. " Stay ! Give me my blue velvet pelisse 
with the white fur ; I would sit and read awhile, and there 
is a chill in the air." The woman brought the quaint 
little garment which was so much the mode just then — a 
velvet coat trimmed with bands of soft white fur, with 
loose sleeves, and fur-trimmed collar cut wide, leaving 
the neck free. The fashion of the rebatoe and fardingale 
— those stiff adorners of beauty — had made these coats 
necessary for the ladies who would be at ease in their 
hours of relaxation : and though both rebatoe and 
fardingale were now banished, still the mode of " the 
little pelisse," as it was called, continued, especially in 
Holland, where the painters loved to portray the gentle 
dames in these soft garments. 

The Queen donned the " little pelisse," and seated 
herself near a table where lay a few books. She opened 
one at random ; it was " Astr^e," Honore d'Urf^'s romance, 
a pretty thing enough, and especially pleasing to those 
who knew that the fantastic medley of shepherds and 
nymphs, lovers and knights, portrayed Henry IV. of 
France and the personages of his Court. Yet Elizabeth 
Stuart had no mind for such fond histories just then. 
She turned the pages, and absently her eyes followed the 
words she saw written there ; but Celadon and Astree, 
Silvandre and Diane, Hylas and the rest, meant naught 
to her. Rather she thought how slow was the tiring- 
woman, who was moving about, gathering up the discarded 
garments and locking away the jewels. 

"Can I do no more for your Majesty?" the woman 
asked, after a time. 

" No, I thank you ; that is all I need," she answered, 
and by an effort of will she kept her eyes on the page 
whereon was writ the story of the amorous Celadon. The 
woman curtseyed and retired, and as the sound of her 
footsteps died away, the Queen flung the book on the 



"AS NEVER MAN HATH LOVED BEFORE" 289 

table. At last, at last, she was alone, and now she must 
decide upon her course. Decide ? Alas ! she knew that 
her decision was already taken ; she could not give herself 
to the Halberstadter. Yet why had she whispered that 
word " to-night " to him ? She was no silly wench who 
could pretend to innocent rashness ; she had known full 
well what he craved. With a rush of thrilling passion 
she knew, too, what she desired — but it could never be, 
she told herself. Ah ! why could she not plead weak- 
ness before the tribunal of her own judgment ? Despair- 
ingly she knew that she was strong — despairingly she knew 
that she must cheat the man she loved — cheat him, for 
when she had bidden him to come to her it had been a 
tacit promise — a consent. 

For a moment she thought she would not unlatch the 
little garden door ; she would fasten her casement, draw 
the curtains round her bed and feign sleep, and when he 
came he would wait awhile in the moonlit garden, and 
then go — go for ever. 

No ! she could not do this — she could not face the 
lifelong knowledge of his hatred and scorn. This one 
thing must be hers, this, that he should hold her in his 
arms — that she should know his kiss — that she should 
confess her passion to him. She told herself that this 
would be no crime — no disloyalty to Friedrich — only 
this once — only this once ! 

She sprang up and went quickly along the short pas- 
sage to the garden door, unlatched it, and sped back, 
leaving her own door ajar. Her casement was open, and 
the scent of the lime-blossom stole in. The night was 
far spent, and already there was a chill in the air which 
heralded the dawn. She heard a swift step without in the 
garden. Instinctively she turned away and leaned against 
the oaken shelf of the fireplace. She closed her eyes, 
her whole being trembled, and a shudder ran over her 
shoulders, for she knew that in an instant his touch 
would come upon her. She was breathless, quivering ; 
her hands were icy cold and feeble like those of a 
swooning woman. 

T 



290 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" Elizabetli ! Beloved ! " she heard him whisper. 

She remained immovable. 

" Elizabeth," he said again, and she felt him near her. 
Then came the touch wherefore she had waited, and a 
thrill went through her from head to foot. 

" Christian," she said, and turned to him swiftly. 
Their eyes met — lingered — his look travelled down from 
her eyes to her lips — then, while the universe stood still 
for her, while her pulses fluttered, halted, and the blood 
seemed to ebb from her heart, she felt his lips claim hers. 

It was as though her consciousness floated deliciously, 
as if time and space had vanished and the world held 
only that potent thrill which burned and froze at once. 
Slowly he drew away from her — drew away, for her lips 
clung to his, and as they parted her breath drank his, 
as if half dead with thirst, she sought to drain at one 
draught the passion's elixir which only his being could 
bestow upon her. 

Long they leaned together there, his arm supporting 
her, for else she was so weak — so wondrous weak — that 
she would have fallen. 

Then he drew her to her chair and, kneeling beside 
her, kissed her uncoiled hair, buried his face in it, breathed 
in its fragrancy; then took her hand and kissed her 
fingers, crushed the palm against his mouth, and growing 
bolder, pressed his lips along the smoothness of her bare, 
white arm, until the pushed back sleeve defended the 
softness of her shoulder. Grown bolder still, he parted 
the lace upon her bosom, and kissed her breast, where 
the blue veins wandered like the mysterious pathways of 
some passion's paradise. His kisses fell on the whiteness 
of her slim throat until, in frenzied rapture, his lips met 
hers once more, and they knew the eternity of a kiss — 
that eternity which, alack I is so soon ended. 

Softly through the open casement, past the hangings 
of viol-brown velvet, came the breath of the lime-trees 
and the rustle of the almost imperceptible night-breeze 
in the leaves. All the world was asleep save Elizabeth 
and Christian and the summer night. 



''AS NEVER MAN HATH LOVED BEFORE" 291 

She leaned against his arm and gazed into his face. 

" Christian, why have you made me love you ? " she 
asked. He bent his head, and for answer drew her 
closely to him, and once more she felt how he trembled. 
When he released her she asked him again : 

" Why have you made me love you ? Silent one, 
answer me." 

" Because there is only you on earth," he said. " Be- 
cause you had to love me." 

" That is no answer," she said, with a little laugh. 

" Oh ! woman that you are I why must you ask that 
which no one can tell ? " he said. " I love you as never 
man hath loved before, and that is why you love me." 

" So many have loved me, but I have never " she 

began. 

" How dare you tell me that ? " he broke out fiercely. 
" No one has ever loved you save I — no one ; do you 
hear ? " His eyes dominated her, and she repeated as in 
a dream : 

" No one has ever loved me save you, Christian ; that 
is why I am yours." 

He stood up and imperiously raised her to her feet ; 
then once more he held her against his breast, so that 
she rested there. 

Suddenly she put him from her, gently yet firmly. 

" Listen to me," she said in an altered tone. " Chris- 
tian, I love you more than life itself, and all my being 
cries out to be yours. I am yours, heart and soul and 
thought ; your kiss is life, your touch is fire, but this 
cannot be — I cannot — Oh ! beloved, do you understand ? " 

He stood before her, and for a moment she feared him 
as a victim fears, and in a flash she realised that if he 
took her by force she would not resist. 

" Christian — Christian, have mercy upon me ! " she 
said, and held out her hands towards him. " No man 
would believe me — you, even you, will not — but to be 
yours — God knows that every drop of blood in me burns 
as yours does — but I cannot " 

He took her hands with ineffable tenderness. 



292 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" Why, oh ! love of mine ! why ? " he said very gently. 

" If Eriedrich were less cruelly treated by destiny I 
should not have the strength to say you nay," she said 
brokenly, " but now my pity conquers my love. No, 
do not misunderstand, for Christ's dear sake, beloved — 
Christian, I love only you on earth, yet my pity stands be- 
tween me and the fairest happiness I shall ever dream of." 

He gathered her to him as though she had been a tired 
child, and she lay against his heart. Her hand stole up 
and touched his face softly. 

" Loved one ! " she said in a low voice. " I have cheated 
you — it is a great cruelty which I am doing you. Alas ! 
I know it, and yet I could not deny myself this one hour 
of joy. How could I let you go from me without telling 
you that I loved you — without knowing the rapture of 
your kiss ? " 

" In your strange logic what is the difference between 
this and " 

" Oh ! cannot you understand ? " she cried passion- 
ately ; " alas ! no man could, and I am dealing you agony 
when I would fain give you heaven ! " 

" Can it never be ? " he pleaded. " Never ? Never ? " 

" How can I tell you ? do not ask me that ! But yes, 
I can answer you. Christian — never while the King is thus 
unhappy," she said. 

" Then if I win back a kingdom for him ? " he asked. 

" Nay," she answered, " I can make no bargain with 
destiny. But this remember, that I love you — love you 
with all the passion there is on earth." 

Once more their lips met, and she grew weak. 

" Go — beloved — as you are strong — have mercy — go 
and leave me," she whispered. 

He turned away, went to the window and stood there 
silent. 

" Christian ! " she said. " Tell me that you do not 
hate me for this." 

He came to her once more ; his face was white and set, 
and his eyes gleamed with the torture of his self-control. 

" I love you," he said. " Having kissed your lips how 



"AS NEVER MAN HATH LOVED BEFORE" 293 

can I ever forget ? Elizabetli — you bid me have mercy 
upon you — do you know what you ask ? " 

" I know full well, Christian," she murmured, with her 
hands hiding her face. 

He flung himself down beside the chair where she was 
cowering; he tore her hands from before her face, and 
kissed her madly, 

" Go — Christian ! Some day, perchance — but now in 
mercy go ! " she moaned. " Go — if you love me." 

He sprang up, and she gazed at him almost with awe, 
for in the place of the lover she saw a man whose face 
expressed a grandeur — a sternness of renunciation which 
made of him a being isolated in his nobility. 

" Because I love you," he said gravely, " because I love 
you as no man hath ever loved, I leave you now." He 
stood a moment before her, then turned; and it was as 
though agony had suddenly blinded him, for he groped 
his way with outstretched arms. On a little table near 
the door her glove was lying, and his hand touched 
it. He started, snatched it up and pressed it to his lips, 
then hid it against his heart, and stumbling like a drunken 
man, passed out of the room. 

" Christian — come back to me ! " she called breathlessly. 

" I cannot let you go — come to me " But he did 

not hear. 

The garden door fell to with a little gentle click. 
Elizabeth heard uneven steps on the pathway, and then 
she was alone with the fragrance of the lime-blossoms, 
and the memory of his kiss burning on her lips. She 
went to the window, and drew back the heavy viol- 
brown velvet curtain. The garden was silent — Christian 
had gone. Already the grey of dawn streaked the sky, 
and the lime-trees seemed like tall priests celebrating 
some mysterious rite of the sacrament of renascent day. 

With infinite sadness Elizabeth Stuart realised that 
the night was past — this one night wherein she had 
touched the brim of the cup of life — this night wherein 
she had renounced passion for ever. 



294 THE WINTER QUEEN 

The dawn had broken, and already the labyrinth of 
streets surrounding the markets were peopled with a 
hurrying stream of fisherwomen from Scheveningen with 
barrows laden with that silver of the sea, the glittering 
mass of fish ; with gardeners bringing fresh vegetables ; 
with peasant- women bearing baskets of eggs, or wheeling 
little carts filled with round cheeses either golden-rinded 
as some strange fruit of tropic climes or of clotted cream 
in massy yellow cakes. It was all commonplace enough, 
but it was touched with the poetry of early morn, and it 
charmed the eye with the varying colours of the mer- 
chandise and the quaintness of the costume of the sellers. 
The grim walls of the Groote Kerk and the quaint gables 
of the Rathaus showed mysterious and forbidding against 
the grey of the sky. Yet, all undismayed, the booths 
clustered beneath the church's gaunt walls, clinging there 
insolent with the sanction of long custom. 

There were buxom, laughing fisherwomen with short, 
bunchy, blue skirts, coloured aprons, and kerchiefs tied 
over the shining metal snoods which encircled their sun- 
bleached hair, their ruddy arms bare almost to the shoulder, 
and their feet encased in seafarers' heavy boots, or clumsy 
wooden sabots; there were bearded fishermen with blue 
jerkins, high boots, and knitted caps; peasant women in 
the distinctive costume of their villages. 

Suddenly, into this homely, busy scene strode a black- 
cloaked figure, a tall, slight man with a felt hat pulled 
down over his eyes. The market-people saw the diamond 
buckles flashing on his shoes, and noted that, where the 
cloak fell away, the sheen of a satin doublet betrayed this 
cavalier to be no early riser but a belated roisterer return- 
ing from some nocturnal revel. Nevertheless the eager 
vendors besieged him with demands to buy. 

" See, mijnheer, the excellent carrots ! Will you not 
bring a bushel home for the stew-pot ? " one cried. 

" Here, pretty sir ! " called an old dame with a basket 
of green vegetables and flowers, " buy a posey for your 
good dame," and she thrust into his face one of those 
tightly bound flower bunches which peasants love. 



"AS NEVER MAN HATH LOVED BEFORE" 295 

" Mijnheer ! mijnheer ! Butter or fresh milk ! Let me 
carry a pail for your little ones at home ! " 

With an angry gesture the man pushed on. He was 
silent before the vendors' importunities, but they followed 
him, for a gallant was fair game for pleasantry if caught 
wandering through the town at dawn. 

" Here are ripe apricots ; they are refreshing after tavern 
drink. Sir Nightbird. Buy some ! " a forward garden- 
wench called, and clutched at the intruder's cloak. 

" Your pardon, juifrouw; I have no need of your good 
merchandise," he said hoarsely, and lifted his broad felt 
hat from his brow in a courteous salute. The girl fell 
back, dragged by a man's heavy hand. 

" 'Tis the Halberstadter, let him be," he said gruffly. 
Who did not know the mad Halberstadter ? He was 
famous as the devil himself in the Hague, and more 
easily recognised. 

They let him be, and he stormed on. Hell itself was 
in his heart, and written on his face was such despair 
that even the stolid people shrank back from him now 
that he forgot to draw his hat over his brow. 

" Who knows from what shameful orgy he comes?" they 
whispered. "Who can tell to what fierce deed he hurries ? " 

The chime of the Groote Kerk jangled out its cracked 
tune ; then came the deep voice of the church clock pro- 
claiming the hour solemnly. Ah, God ! Could it be but 
two hours since he had held Elizabeth Stuart in his arms ? 
Could it be that in so short a span of time he had ex- 
changed the hope of rapture for the certitude of despair ? 
He was indeed an outcast now. What remained to him 
but madness, shame, death ? 

" The mad Halberstadter ! Oh, protect me ! " called a 
pert maiden in feigned coyness. He stopped suddenly 
and glared at her. 

" Oh ! Lud 'a mercy ! what fierce eyes ! You looked 
not thus when you kissed me at the kermess last year," 
she said. 

" Kissed you ! God in heaven ! kissed you ! " he cried 
wildly. 



296 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" Alack ! he is quite mad, the Halberstadter ! " she 
sighed, and turned to some rude bantering with a group 
of loiterers. 

" 'Tis only Mera Loon, the forward hussy ! " muttered 
an aged crone. 

Yes, he told himself bitterly, he had had truck with 
such baggages as Mera Loon — he had squandered his 
kisses on such wantons — he was smirched body and soul, 
and it had been defilement for Elizabeth Stuart when he 
had kissed her lips. And yet she loved him 1 But could 
she know how debased he was, she would turn from him 
in horror. In his pain he essayed to deny her purity, 
and even as the ugly thought came to him he loathed 
himself for it, saw himself as a sacrilegist. 

For long he had wandered aimlessly in the narrow 
streets, like to some wounded animal ever circling feebly, 
feverishly on its own tracks. He had passed beneath the 
windows of slumberous burghers, who, perhaps, had 
turned lazily in their wainscoted wall-beds hearing his 
restless tread. 

On, past the markets he hurried, and out into the 
stillness of the Bosch. He hardly knew what he did — • 
was scarcely conscious that he strode onward. The 
silence in the wood came like a soothing hand on his 
racked heart. Instinctively he took his way to the 
beech grove where he had stood with Elizabeth Stuart 
that night of the alfresco feast ; and here his madness left 
him, and he flung himself face downwards on the cool, 
damp moss. For a space he lay there as one dead, then 
his agony and the sense of his physical defilement reawoke 
and he wept wildly, painfully, finding no assuagement in 
tears, as women do, but rather the added torture of the 
acknowledged abasement which weeping brings to the 
strong man. 

" To what shameful orgy goes the mad Halberstadter ? " 
they had said. Alas ! this was his orgy — this was the 
feast of life which destiny held for Christian, the mad 
Halberstadter, who loved, as he had said, as never man 
had loved before. 



CHAPTER XYIII 

THE HERO OF FLEURCJS 
" Tout pour Dieu et pour elle ! " 

WHEN King Friedrich returned from the camp he 
was vehement in his displeasure at the Halber- 
stadter's absence. Why had he gone, and where? 
It was unmannerly to have departed without bidding his 
friends adieu. Friedrich took it as a personal affront. The 
Queen made scant reply to Friedrich's questions ; she 
averred that she really knew naught of the Halberstadter ; 
the night before he left he had been at supper at the 
house on the Lange Voorhout, more she could not say. 

"You were most likely harsh to my poor friend — I 
cannot comprehend why you always treat him so ill," the 
King said querulously. For once the Queen made no 
answer to his fretful speeches. 

He betook himself to the Countess of Nassau, Christian's 
sister, and complained of the Halberstadter's sudden de- 
parture ; but here too he was met with vague responses. 

" I begin to mislike the Countess. She assured me that 
Christian has gone to Brunswick to enrol troops in my 
service, but she had a meaning smile on her lips ; I am 
near sure she knows the reason of his leaving without 
bidding me farewell," he grumbled to Elizabeth Stuart. 

" I doubt whether her Highness hath more knowledge 
thereon than you have, dear my lord ; but women's wits 
are quick," she answered. " Your friend is gone ; must 
your Majesty inquire further ? " 

For a few days the King kept to his grievance ; and who 
can tell what it cost the Queen to hide her impatience, 
into which was mixed an agony of regret, but which she 
had, perforce, to mask for fear of betraying herself. 

297 



298 THE WINTER QUEEN 

Then there came an envoy from King James ; and his 
mission, by giving Friedrich real cause for annoyance, 
quelled his discontent with his friend the Halberstadter. 
The English envoy had been despatched to remonstrate 
with King Friedrich upon his imprudence in joining 
Maurice of Orange's camp. In vain the unlucky monarch 
pleaded that 'twas no shame for a German Prince to bear 
arms in a famed commander's army, King James had fore- 
stalled this argument by most excellent reasoning : How 
could an ambassador, however skilled, negotiate peace for a 
prince actually in arms against Austria ? How could an 
emperor, however inclined to leniency, pardon an ex-king 
and lift the ban from a prince who thus openly showed 
his intention of recommencing hostilities on the first oppor- 
tunity ? King James refused to spend money on main- 
taining so futile an enterprise ; and further, if Friedrich 
did not immediately conform to his fatherly advice by 
leaving the camp and keeping quiet in the Hague, the 
thirty thousand English pounds which had been promised 
to Elizabeth Stuart would not be paid. 

" Let my father keep his gold ! " cried the Queen, 
thoroughly aroused by this ungenerous threat. " We will 
ne'er be bribed." But alack ! Friedrich knew that his 
treasury was empty, knew, too, that the monthly sum 
voted by the States- General was all insufficient to pay the 
outstanding debts in the Hague. It was not enough that 
Fate had dealt him failure, the humiliation of penury was 
his as well. Though poverty is in itself no shame, it 
brings manifold mortifications to a proud spirit. Eliza- 
beth Stuart oifered to sell her jewels. She was told that 
in war-time rubies, diamonds, and pearls were dross ; who 
would buy baubles then ? 

" Can I not pawn them ? " cried her Majesty. " I have 
heard that when none will buy it is always possible to 
pawn jewels." 

" It is unfitting for a Princess Palatine to pawn any- 
thing," said Friedrich pompously. " Where learned you 
such things ? " 

" What matters it where I learned them ? And why 



THE HERO OF FLEURUS 299 

should it be unfitting ? Is it a better pride to accept a 
bribe ? " she asked scornfully. 

Yet resistance was useless, and after days of argument, 
Friedrich gave in, promised obedience, relinquished his 
command under Maurice, and the thirty thousand pounds 
"were paid. 

Each day saw the arrival of many refugees at the 
Hague, men who had served King Friedrich in Bohemia, 
ruined gentlemen from the Palatinate, whose lands had 
been devastated by the Spaniards, and even more piteous 
still, such men as the Lord of Schonaich, he who had be- 
friended the unfortunate monarch in his dire need in 
Silesia. It was treason to shelter a man under the ban 
of the empire, be he robber or king, and all those who 
had not turned from Friedrich and Elizabeth in their 
misfortune were declared rebels and their lands were 
sequestrated by imperial decree. Schonaich, for ex- 
ample, had been expelled from his house, and had been 
permitted to bear away nothing save his Bible and his 
staff. 

" It is thus that the man of God should go forth ! " 
shouted the soldiery in cruel mockery when the aged lord 
had craved permission to take at least a change of raiment 
with him into exile. 

" Aye ! " he had answered proudly, " I go forth with a 
quiet heart, for he who suffers for his King suffers for his 
God, and God will never forsake him." 

There were many sad histories of this kind ; there were 
many brave gentlemen who sacrificed all in a spirit of 
absolute simple faith. These were the pawns in that vast 
game of chess where the kings and bishops were moved 
ruthlessly on the board by the colossus " Ambition " 
masked as " Religion," playing against the giant " Reten- 
tion" in cowl and gown and masquerading as "The 
Faith." 

The Hague was the refuge of all political victims, and 
King Friedrich's ill-supplied treasury was strained to the 
last groschen to support them. Sternly King James wrote, 
bidding Friedrich reduce his Court, but how could he leave 



300 THE WINTER QUEEN 

men to starve who had lost all in his service ? Friends 
and adherents in England sent small sums or gifts of cloth, 
linen, books, or wine to Elizabeth Stuart, but such things 
were insufficient to maintain a Court of over three hundred 
persons. 

" Courage ! 'tis only an o'er-darkened span of time ! " 
the Queen told herself, for it was impossible to believe 
that a Prince Palatine should long be deprived of his lands 
and revenues — he, the richest potentate in Germany to 
whom the Rhine toll belonged. Was not " Rich as he 
who owns the Rhine toll " a familiar figure of speech 
denoting enormous wealth ? 

In the spring of 1622 her Majesty of Bohemia gave 
birth to a daughter, and Friedrich importuned her to 
pray the Halberstadter to be the infant's sponsor. 
Elizabeth Stuart was lying in her velvet-hung bed, above 
her head were the emblazonad emblems of Bohemia, en- 
circled by the blue ribbon of the Garter. The Queen's 
face was fragile and flower-like beneath the heavy waves 
of her chestnut hair, and her white hands seemed to have 
gained an added delicacy — a pathetic transparency. At 
the foot of the bed crouched two small, brown monkeys 
— Jacky, very old and grey nozzled now ; and Master 
Abraham, as her Majesty had named the new monkey, 
much to Friedrich's half-amused annoyance, for he knew 
the Queen mocked Abraham Scultetus by thus naming 
a monkey after him. 

The King stood beside the bed ; he was very gentle to 
Elizabeth Stuart, with an almost timid tenderness, as one 
who would say : " You have given me all things ; I, too, 
give you all, and yet you have so much more to give that 
my gift seems paltry." It was, perhaps, by this humility, 
by this appealing, unspoken avowal of weakness, that 
Friedrich held Elizabeth Stuart's tenderness, despite his 
querulous pomposity and his assumption of superiority. 
She loved him patiently, as a woman loves an ailing 
child ; she was true to him because it had been her des- 
tiny that this childlike being should be her " man," though 



THE HERO OF FLEURUS 301 

lie could never have been her mate ! But to consider 
that would have been disloyal, and a smirch on him in 
her sight ; and though sometimes she remembered, and 
her soul grew weary and empty for a moment, she always 
turned away her thoughts; also, it was useless, and 
thoroughly English in this, she eschewed the useless 
instinctively. 

" Let me have those silly beasts removed, dear heart," 
the king said, as the playful monkeys rolled over like 
little wrestlers ; " they are crumpling your coverlet." 

" They are well enough, and they divert me," she 
answered carelessly. 

" Nay, they weary you, and I cannot allow you " 

he began. 

" Oh ! for the dear Lord's sake, leave them be," she said 
with sudden irritation. " I must know best what wearies 
me. Nay, be not wounded, Friedrich ; come, give me 
your hand and tell me of other things," she added hastily, 
as he drew back offended. 

He smiled; ah ! how piteously childlike women were 
with their whimsies and their uncalled-for moods, yet 
'twas surely the man's role to humour them, he thought. 

" I have spoken to you before, sweeting, of my wish for 
Christian of Brunswick to be this new little maiden's 
godfather," he said, " and I would fain write this day to 
tell him we have chosen him." 

A hot flush flooded the Queen's cheek, 

" Why must you insist on this ? " she asked quickly ; 
" you know I do not wish it." 

" But I wish it, dearling ; and sure you can have naught 
against my choosing my friend for my child's sponsor ? " he 
answered. " You can name the other gossips for the babe 
— you know I have no unreasoning dislikes as you have ! " 

" Why do you think that my cousin of Brunswick 
would wish to be the child's sponsor ? What can it be 
to him ? " she said in a low, uncertain voice. 

" You know full well that he will account it an honour. 
And, indeed, are we sunk so low that none should care 
to be our child's gossip ? " he said bitterly. 



302 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" That hath naught to do in the matter," she said. 

" It hath — it hath ! " he cried vehemently. " You, 
too, even you, seek to humble me." 

" Ah ! Friedrich, I humble you ? I ? " she said, and 
the tears rose in her eyes. Ah ! if she could but tell 
him — make him understand. 

" Friedrich, do not ask the Halberstadter," she whis- 
pered. She felt that it would be a cruel irony to ask 
Christian to be sponsor to Friedrich's child — it would be a 
mockery of his pain, of his renunciation, and a hidden out- 
rage to Friedrich himself, though he would never know it. 

" You go too far," he burst out angrily, " Your dislike 
of the Halberstadter makes you unjust. The child is my 
child after all, and if I choose to assert my authority, I 
can do as I will." 

She nodded. " Yes, the child is your child after all," 
she said in a strange, quiet voice. 

" So you consent ? That is like your gentleness, sweet 
Bess," he said, and bending, kissed her on the brow; 
" and now I go to write to Christian, to acquaint him with 
the honour I would pay him," he added, and left her. 

For a long time she lay there silent- The casement 
stood open, and from the Lange Voorhout came the 
sound of voices and laughter and the rumbling of a 
carosse. A light breeze stirred the velvet window-cur- 
tain, and a freshness of spring was wafted in from the 
trim garden. A bird twittered in the lime-trees, where 
the foliage wrought a delicate tracery beneath the clear 
azure of the spring sky. 

" The child is his child after all," she repeated slowly 
to herself. " Christian — Christian ! Will you know that 
tis not / who deal you this stab ? Will you know that 
/ do not mock you at least ? " 

For many months but scant direct news of the Hal- 
berstadter came to the Hague. He was in Brunswick, 
and had issued a manifesto calling to arms all able-bodied 
men. The Protestant princes affected ignorance of his 
doings, though the Halberstadter declared that he armed 



THE HERO OF FLEURUS 303 

in defence of the threatened Reformed faith, and ap- 
pealed to all the Protestant rulers to aid him. By 
December 1622 he had a troop of two thousand men, 
recruited chiefly from Halberstadt and Brunswick, and 
both armed and victualled at the Halberstadter's expense. 

He was confronted with the refusal of the Landgraf to 
allow him passage through Hesse, and of his own brother, 
Friedrich Ulrich of Brunswick, who forbade him to march 
through his territories. He saw clearly that to join 
Mansfeld in the Palatinate, which was of course his object, 
he must fight his way through Protestant countries, as 
though his path had been set in an enemy's lands. Now 
he threw off the disguise and openly avowed that he 
fought in the cause of Friedrich, King of Bohemia ; that 
his first object was to save the Palatinate, and that in 
Friedrich's cause was included the hope of Protestantism. 
Hitherto his motto had been : " Gottes Freund, des Pfaffen 
Feind," but now he bound a woman's glove on his helmet 
with the device : " Tout pour Dieu et pour elle." Thus 
Christian of Brunswick proclaimed himself Elizabeth 
Stuart's champion, and thus she learned that he still 
dreamed of conquering Friedrich's kingdom for her sake, 
and she thrilled remembering when he had taken the 
glove which he wore so proudly on his helmet. It seemed 
to her that, though he sent no word, yet this was his 
message — a message of forgiveness. Peradventure, it 
told, too, of a mad hope in his heart — had he not said : 
" And if I reconquer a kingdom for him — ? " Resolutely 
she put the thought from her; she had told him she 
could drive no such bargains with destiny ! 

The Halberstadter stormed through the land, captured 
Soest, and threatened comfortable ecclesiastical cities. " If 
your worships fear fire, rapine, and death, pay me a 
hundred thousand thalers," he told the Jesuits of Pader- 
born, and they opened their gates, implored for mercy, 
and paid the Halberstadter his hundred thousand thalers 
to leave them in peace. 

He thundered on, took Miinster, received more gold in 
return for hindering his men from plundering the wealthy 



304 THE WINTER QUEEN 

town, and, like a scourge, he passed on triumpliant. It 
was not his plan to settle into some impregnable fortress ; 
he must gather gold and recruit men, and join Mansfeld 
in the Palatinate. Already his name inspired such terror 
that when he appeared before a town the citizens, of their 
own accord, opened their gates and sued for mercy, offering 
him solid compensation for his renunciation of plunder. 

Now the aim of the whole Catholic army was to crush 
this reckless enemy with his small force of some three 
thousand men, Anholt, the Bavarian General, pursued 
him and drove him back into Westphalia. Even the 
Halberstadter dared not attack so mighty a foe, and by 
April he was forced to retreat to Lippstadt ; but in May 
he suddenly appeared before the walls of the ecclesiastical 
town of Fulda, commandeered four hundred thousand 
thalers, and then marched on and invaded the bishopric 
of Mainz. A panic seized the Bishop's garrison in Ursel, 
and they evacuated the town without offering resistance 
to the Halberstadter, who made a triumphal entry and 
decided to spend a few weeks in Ursel to repose his weary 
troops. But the news that Anholt with a large force had 
arrived in the neighbourhood caused him to push on, in 
the hope of capturing the town of Mainz. Here, too, both 
garrison and inhabitants fled at his approach, and he 
occupied a deserted, though well-provisioned, town. So 
far Christian with his handful of men had carried all 
before him, and he sent a glowing account of his success 
to his sister at the Hague, who hurried to the Queen with 
the glad tidings. 

But Tilly with a Bavarian army, and Cordova with a 
large Spanish force, were at Aschaffenburg, thus blocking 
the road between the Halberstadter at Mainz and Mansfeld, 
now at Mannheim. Towards the middle of June Tilly 
advanced past Frankfurt. The Halberstadter knew him- 
self to be outnumbered by at least six to one, but he pre- 
pared for battle, instead of slipping across the river Main 
and making for the Palatinate. His council of war prayed 
him to follow this course, but who could expect the 
Halberstadter voluntarily to order a manoeuvre which 



THE HERO OF FLEURUS 305 

would appear so like fliglit ? He believed that God 
would give victory to the champion of Elizabeth Stuart, 
and the danger of the enterprise but added to his zest. 
Then, too, his army had grown, for several thousand men 
had flocked to his standard during the last weeks, and he 
longed to pit his prowess against such famed commanders 
as Tilly and Cordova. He left Mainz, and attacked the 
Imperialists near the township of Hochst. Immediately 
Tilly's well-directed fire swept the Halberstiidter's cavalry 
from the field, and the Brunswick infantry was thrown 
into disorder by their comrades' rout ; also the three 
cannon, which was Christian's whole artillery, proved 
useless : one gun burst, the other was immediately 
shattered by the enemy, and the third was no match for 
the steady fire of Tilly's numerous cannon. Nevertheless, 
for six hours the desperate hand-to-hand fight continued, 
before the Halberstadter would sanction the withdrawal 
of his troops, and when he at last consented, the dis- 
couraged, weary soldiery were incapable of orderly retreat ; 
they broke line and fled, and were hewn down by the 
Bavarians and Spaniards. Christian forded the river and 
endeavoured to rally his scattered troops for another 
attack ; but seeing that his army was decimated to half 
the original number, he at length decided to take advan- 
tage of the fact that Tilly had ceased to pursue him, and 
marched southwards to join Mansfeld. For Tilly, fearful 
that the " mad Halberstadter's " retreat was only a feint, 
had left the road to Mannheim open. The battle of 
Hochst was a crushing defeat for Christian, and yet the 
object of many months of strategy was thereby attained: 
Christian and Mansfeld were together, and the Imperialists 
were confronted by a powerful antagonist indeed. 

Friedrich could no longer endure the enforced inaction 
in the Hague, when he heard that the armies of the 
Halberstadter and of Mansfeld were united. It meant 
that a campaign was imminent which would decide the 
fate of the Palatinate and the future of Protestantism. It 
was evident that James's Ambassador in Vienna was being 
duped by the Emperor, whose continued procrastination 

u 



306 THE WINTER QUEEN 

had at length undeceived King James. Obviously Ferdi- 
nand had no intention either of removing the ban from 
Friedrich, or of restoring the Palatinate to him. A 
friendly letter received about this time by Elizabeth from 
the Infanta Isabella, superscribed : "To the Countess 
Palatine, Princess of Great Britain," confirmed the im- 
pression that the Imperial party was decided to withhold 
from her even the title of Electress, Further negotiations 
were useless — the sword must decide. 

Friedrich left the Hague, and, disguised as a peasant, 
journeyed to the army. It was a perilous undertaking, 
for he had to pass through large tracts of country held by 
the enemy, and he was constantly stopped and questioned 
by patrolling Imperialists. Once at nightfall in a village 
hostelry he was interrupted at supper by a company of 
Bavarians, who invited the young peasant to drink with 
them. 

" What smooth hands the youth has got ! " they said 
suspiciously. " Are you a gallant in disguise, perchance, 
Master Yokel ? " 

But Friedrich succeeded in making them believe that 
he had been ill for months in France, and was now return- 
ing to his family near Heidelberg. 

" Are you a heretic, and a friend to the fool Friedrich ? " 
they asked, and when he hesitated they bade him drink 
to the downfall of all heretics, usurpers, and enemies 
of Austria. He complied ; yet this did not satisfy his 
tormentors, and they bid him vow that Friedrich of the 
Palatinate was no lord of his, but a sorry knave and a 
" sheep's head." To this the unfortunate King answered 
with so forcible an assertion of Friedrich's imbecility, 
wrongheadedness, and weakness that the half-drunken 
soldiery let him go, after clapping him roughly on the 
back, and proclaiming him to be a right good fellow 
holding sound opinions. 

He reached the army at Germersheim in the Palatinate, 
where he found the confederate generals, the Halber- 
stadter, Mansfeld, and the Markgraf of Baden-Durlach, 
united in name, but entirely divided in spirit. Friedrich's 



THE HERO OF FLEURUS 307 

advent did little to improve matters, though he assumed 
the nominal command of the three contingents. 

The Imperial forces meanwhile had withdrawn south- 
wards, and Friedrich decided to pursue them into Alsatia. 
Here he found a devastated country; the plundered villages 
were smoking ruins, the peasants had fled, the Imperialists 
had carried away all provisions. At the town of Zabern 
the Protestant army came upon the first resistance to 
their unhindered pursuit. The Halberstadter and Mans- 
feld laid siege to Zabern which, though bravely defended 
by the Imperial garrison and the citizens, would have been 
easily captured, when to the surprise and consternation 
both of the generals and of the whole army, Friedrich 
suddenly commanded the cessation of hostilities and 
called a council of war. He now announced that he had 
received despatches from the English and Danish envoys 
in Vienna, and that the Emperor had declared he could 
not even consider the petition of a prince in arms against 
him. Friedrich informed the Council that the envoys 
having implored him to abandon the campaign, he had 
decided to disband his army, to dismiss Mansfeld and the 
Halberstadter from his service, and to throw himself upon 
the Emperor's mercy. 

So unwarrantable a desertion on the brink of success 
seemed incredible to the Halberstadter and Mansfeld ; but 
when they saw that Friedrich, with the obstinacy of the 
weak, intended to adhere to this decision they turned 
from him in scorn. 

" Let him go where he will ! " cried Mansfeld bitterly. 
" I had liefer serve a knave than a weakling." Chris- 
tian of Brunswick said nothing ; he walked away from 
the tent where the council of war had been held ; 
for two days none saw him, and it was bruited abroad 
that the mad Halberstadter had killed himself in his 
anger at King Friedrich's desertion. But on the third 
morning he came quietly into Mansfeld's tent, and opened 
a discussion on a question of camp discipline, as though 
nothing untoward had occurred. 

The Halberstadter and Mansfeld found themselves in a 



308 THE WINTER QUEEN 

desperate strait; dismissed from tlie service of the man 
in whose name they had undertaken the campaign, they 
had become bandits, marauders in an impoverished 
country, and being without funds to pay their men 
they could not disband the army. They proposed 
now to sell their swords and their troops to the 
highest bidder. King Friedrich meanwhile was safe, 
though an unwelcome guest, at Sedan with the Duke 
of Bouillon. 

The Protestant adversary now paralysed, the Im- 
perialists returned to the Palatinate, seized Mannheim, 
wreaked their vengeance upon the defenceless inhabitants, 
burned, pillaged, harried the whole countryside, and laid 
siege to Heidelberg. 

Mansfeld, indifferent as to whom he served so long as 
he could practise the remunerative art of warfare, entered 
into negotiations with the Emperor ; but Ferdinand, not 
needing reinforcements at that time, refused the offer 
of the Protestant ex-leader. Louis XIII. sought to gain 
both Mansfeld and Christian, to employ them against the 
turbulent Huguenots, but the Halberstadter vehemently 
refused to draw sword against his co-religionists. The 
Infanta Isabella, Governess of the Netherlands, offered 
two hundred thousand crowns for the two generals and 
their army ; but Mansfeld found the sum insufficient, and 
Christian would not fight against Maurice of Orange and 
a Protestant army. There remained the Duke of Bouillon 
at Sedan, who was secretly gathering together all mal- 
contents to join in the Huguenots' struggle against order 
and Catholicism under the King of France. Maurice 
of Orange, hard pressed in the Netherlands, offered six 
hundred thousand gulden to Mansfeld and Christian. 
The besieged town of Bergen op Zoom could hold out but 
little longer against Spinola and Cordova with their large 
Spanish forces, and Maurice realised that even genius and 
well-trained troops could not contend for long against 
overwhelming numbers. But Cordova blocked the way 
between the Netherlands and Alsatia, and the Halber- 
stadter and Mansfeld, not considering their forces sufficient 



THE HERO OF FLEURUS 309 

to risk an encounter with so large an army, decided to 
march to Sedan. 

On their way thither they made a pleasant little detour 
on the French frontier, sacked the Abbey of Verdun, and 
beleaguered Pont a Mousson. There was panic in France, 
and in Paris it was said that the " German robbers " were 
making for the capital itself. Bouillon would join his 
secret allies, and the whole of France would quickly fall 
into their hands. To hinder this dangerous union of 
Mansfeld and Bouillon, Louis XIII. despatched an envoy 
to Mansfeld offering him an enormous bribe to desert the 
Protestant cause and enter the service of the King of 
France. Mansfeld hesitated ; his troops were on the point 
of mutiny, for they had lately reaped but a scant harvest of 
plunder from the impoverished countries they had occupied. 
The Halberstadter, albeit he presently remained before 
Pont a Mousson with Mansfeld, refused to continue a 
course of dissimulation and indecision, and announced his 
intention of leading his own troops direct to Sedan to join 
Bouillon. Mansfeld discovering that, while the negotia- 
tions between himself and the French Crown hung fire, 
there was an understanding between France and Cordova, 
and when he heard that the latter was marching to Pont 
a Mousson, decided to have done with France, both 
Catholic King and Huguenot Duke, and to hurry to the 
aid of Maurice of Orange in the Netherlands. The Hal- 
berstadter agreed to this, and the approach of the enemy 
Cordova having banished the mutinous spirit in Mansfeld's 
army, the two camps were raised, and the Protestant army 
commenced a forced march northwards. By the end of 
August 1622 the Halberstadter arrived at Fleuruson the 
borders of theSpanish Netherlands, and found that Cordova, 
having outmarched him on the eastward line, had effectually 
blocked the road to Maurice of Orange. Mansfeld endea- 
voured to effect a truce, and offered Cordova a bribe to allow 
him to pass; but the Spaniard refused, well knowing that the 
bribe, though alluring on paper, had not its counterpart in 
solid gold, for neither the Halberstadter nor Mansfeld 
owned a quarter of the sum offered. It was an unpleasant 



310 THE WINTER QUEEN 

situation for the Protestant leaders. Cordova's army was 
not only larger than theirs, but he had already seized the 
best strategic position. Also he had a number of abso- 
lutely fresh troops recently despatched to his aid from 
Holland by Spinola, whereas the Protestants were not only 
weary from their enforced march, but again on the point 
of mutiny. Cordova had seven cannon, and there were 
but two heavy guns with the Protestant army. 

On the 28th of August, at break of day, Mansfeld sur- 
prised the Spanish camp. Though he attacked repeatedly 
and with dauntless courage, he was beaten back with fear- 
ful loss. Hereupon the Halberstadter with his cavalry fell 
upon the Spanish rear-guard, and though repulsed four 
times, he finally succeeded in routing the entire Spanish 
army ; for Cordova, thinking that such reckless courage 
must surely be inspired by the arrival of unexpected rein- 
forcements, gave the order to retreat, and pursued by the 
Halberstadter, the flower of the Spanish forces fled, aban- 
doning cannon, ammunition, baggage, and the well-filled 
treasure-carts. Cordova's army would have been anni- 
hilated had not the timely arrival of three thousand fresh 
Imperial troops, under General Gouchier, caused the 
Halberstadter to relinquish the pursuit. 

It was a glorious victory for the Protestants, a victory 
won not alone over overwhelming numbers, but won in 
spite of weariness, discontent, and insubordination. It had 
been the Halberstadter's fiery courage which had inspired 
his men with magnificent heroism, and when at the end of 
the battle the officers gathered round him, their enthusiasm 
was loudly expressed. 

The Halberstadter stood leaning against the pole of his 
tent, his face was deathly pale, and his brown eyes were 
wild and brilliant. His buflf-leather jerkin was blood- 
stained, and his steel breastplate dented and tarnished. 
He had removed his helmet, its weight had left a red weal 
across his brow, and his short-cropped, brown hair was 
dank with sweat. With his right hand he clasped the 
tentpole convulsively, his left hand was hidden in the 
folds of his sky-blue baldric. He stood silent while the 



THE HERO OF FLEURUS 311 

officers praised his splendid dash and prowess. Offended 
by his taciturnity, they whispered that the mad Halber- 
stadter had grown madder than ever — a great captain, 
surely, but a madman, they said. Now into the crowd of 
officers a short, thick-set man pushed his way, a man 
whose large head and misshapen shoulders gave him a 
grotesque appearance, but whose sombre, sneering face 
banished mockery and evoked a sense of fear in his be- 
holders. The officers fell back, saluting him respectfully. 

" Is his Highness of Brunswick here ? " he said in the 
melodious quiet voice which always surprised those who 
first met with Ernest Mansfeld, the bastard son of a noble- 
man and a dissolute camp-follower, a woman who had borne 
the ominous name of Dame Krieg Krieg, a strange appella- 
tion enough for the mother of a man destined to earn his 
life and renown by the profession of war. Mansfeld came to 
the Halberstadter, and a smile of singular sweetness lit his 
harsh features — that same unexpected smile which had 
perhaps explained the fascination of the coarse, ill-favoured 
camp-follower over many a haughty noble. 

" My Lord Duke of Brunswick," Mansfeld said, and 
stretched out both hands to the silent man, " the honour of 
this day is yours alone ! I can claim no part in the winning 
of the battle of Fleurus. Give me your hands, my lord, 
that I may have the honour of a brave man's touch ! " 

Slowly the Halberstadter unclasped his hold of the 
tentpole and reached out his right hand to Mansfeld. 
The hunchback stood with both hands outstretched, and 
though he gripped the Halberstadter's right hand warmly, 
in his generous enthusiasm he would have taken Christian's 
left hand as well, and his face darkened as the Halber- 
stadter stood seemingly unresponsive to his warmth. He 
was always suspicious of insult, this bastard, who had 
too often drunk the bitterness of humiliation, and the 
slightest unintentional coldness tasted as gall to him. 

" I came to congratulate your Highness ; I see my 
intent is misconstrued," he said haughtily, and, dropping 
the Halberstadter's hand, he would have turned away. 
Christian's apathy vanished. 



312 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" I thank you, my comrade and commander ! " he cried, 
and his voice trembled as though the tears had risen in 
his throat. " Honour from so great a captain is more to 
me than a king's favour." 

Mansfeld's face softened, and once more he held out 
both his hands impulsively. 

" I cannot give you my left hand, sir," said Christian 
in a low voice ; " I am a trifle wounded." 

He swayed suddenly, and would have fallen had not 
Mansfeld supported him. They led him into his tent 
and gave him wine. 

" Gentlemen ! I crave your pardon for so womanish 
a spectacle ! " cried the Halberstadter ; "I was weary, 
and I believe near to swooning. I am restored now, 
but I pray you send for the surgeon; my hand needs 
binding up." 

He lifted his left hand out of the folds of his baldric, 
and even the war-inured men around him shuddered, for 
that which had been a hand was now but a lump of 
blackened and bleeding flesh. Mansfeld, like many a 
strong man, had all a woman's compassion for physical 
suffering. With a sure and gentle touch he took that 
mutilated hand. He bade them bring him water, and 
he washed away some of the ghastly crust of blood and 
grime. He knew well enough the excruciating agony 
which the Halberstadter endured; knew, too, the price 
which Christian was to pay for the victory of Fleurus. 
Softly, as a woman speaks to a sick child, he spoke to 
Christian, and when the question he dreaded came, he 
answered steadily. 

" Will my hand heal in a few weeks, Mansfeld ? You, 
who know such things, tell me, will it be covered with 
unsightly scars ? " As he spoke the Halberstadter's eyes 
wandered to his helmet, which lay on the rude camp- 
table, that helmet with the woman's glove and the device : 
" Tout pour Dieu et pour elle." 

" Your hand will not be scarred," Mansfeld answered ; 
and Christian did not see how the cruel, dishonest con- 
dottiere paid him the tribute of tears. 



THE HERO OF FLEURUS 313 

" Better death, than to be made hideous in a woman's 
sight," cried the Halberstadter, trying piteously to speak 
lightly, despite his pain ; and again the brave cheerfulness 
of his tone caused Mansfeld to turn away. 

The camp surgeon, a grave personage who had learned 
his skill in the school of Ambroise Pare, the famed 
chirurgeon of Henri II., came to the tent. He questioned 
the Halberstadter quickly. 

" When got your Highness this hurt ? At the outset 
of the battle ! Hum — hum — how could you go on, your 
Highness ? Felt you no pain ? You had no thought for 
it ! There — grip my Lord Mansfeld's arm. I must hurt 
you." He probed the bleeding flesh with his sharp knife. 
The Halberstadter set his teeth. 

" It is but a little wound, sir," he said faintly. " I 
doubt not 'twill heal at once if you pour some salve upon 
it." The surgeon's eyes met Mansfeld's. 

" Tell him," the condottiere whispered ; " the hero of 
Fleurus can face anything — even this." 

" My Lord Duke," the surgeon said gravely, " this is no 
little hurt." 

" Will it leave my hand unsightly ? " Christian asked, 
and again his glance rested on the woman's glove in his 
helmet. 

" Nay, your Highness, you will have no left hand 
more," the surgeon answered huskily. 

The Halberstadter looked at him, speechless, for a 
moment, then he rose stiffly and stood quivering, tense, 
like some hunted animal at bay and threatened by the 
outrage of man's cruelty. 

" Say — that — again," he whispered at last hoarsely. 
" I did not understand — you said ? " 

" I said that no human skill could heal your hand ; the 
flesh is fouled, and if I leave your hand upon your arm 
the corruption will spread," the surgeon answered. 

Very slowly the Halberstadter moved across the tent 
to where his helmet lay upon the rude table, and stood 
there with his back turned to the surgeon, Mansfeld, and 
the officers^ so that no man saw his face. The surgeon 



314 THE WINTER QUEEN 

made a movement as though to go to him, but Mansfeld 
caught him by the arm. 

" Leave him be," he muttered ; " he is fighting a more 
desperate battle than even he hath ever fought." 

After a few moments the Halberstadter turned. His 
face was livid, but his lips were firm. 

" Is there no other way, Mansfeld ? " he asked quietly. 
" Is there no pain that I can endure which will save me 
from this blemish ? Can they not pour gunpowder into 
the wound, even though I suffer the agony of hell, can 
no one save me from this shame ? " 

Mansfeld shook his head, and, unabashed by the 
presence of the officers, he let the tears roll down his 
cheeks now. 

" There is no other way, hero of Fleurus," he said. 

" Let it be done at once, then," the Halberstadter said. 
" I thank you for your courtesy in telling me immedi- 
ately, sir," he added calmly to the surgeon. 

They would have taken him to the Abbey of Fleurus, 
for the surgeon said that the quiet of a comfortable 
dwelling-room was necessary for the sufferer. But here 
the Halberstadter near broke down. 

" Do not mew me in a closed room ! " he pleaded. 
" Mansfeld, you understand ; tell him how I can bear all 
things, but not to be put in a sick-room like an ailing 
woman. I am not ill ! " he cried ; " a misfortune hath 
befallen me, but I am right well." He who undaunted 
could face mortal agony, could not face the degradation 
of sickness. 

" I am right well," he said. " If this thing must be 
done, let it be done in the fresh air before my tent, and 
let me have the trumpets and drums to sing me a song 
of war, so that I may forget to wince beneath Master 
Baptist's knife." 

" Master Surgeon," said Mansfeld gruffly, " you must 
do your work where and how his Highness bids you." 

They set a chair and a table before the Halberstadter's 
tent, and as the sun of the August day sank in fiery 
splendour, the hero of Fleurus sat there with Mansfeld 



THE HERO OF FLEURUS 315 

holding that strong right hand with the short powerful 
thumb and the long pointed fingers, while stretched across 

the table was the left arm with that other hand 

And the trumpets and drums of the Protestant army 
blazed forth in a triumph for the glorious victory of 
Fleurus. 



CHAPTEE XIX 

FAREWELL 

THE Countess of Nassau craved audience of her 
Majesty of Bohemia. The Queen was but newly- 
returned from riding along the sands of Scheven- 
ingen and had given orders to be undisturbed, saying she 
was weary and would rest awhile. She marvelled what 
should bring Sophie of Nassau at this unwonted hour. 
The Halberstadter's sister was a frequent visitor at the 
house on the Lange Voorhout, and the Queen saw her 
at the few festivities which took place at the Hague 
since the war had begun, but after the Halberstadter's 
departure a certain reserve had sprung up between the 
two ladies. 

" Pray her Highness to await me a short span, Alison," 
the Queen said. " I will dress quickly and come to her." 
She rose from the couch whereon she had been resting, 
and donned a flowing white satin skirt and that little 
pelisse of azure velvet with the white fur, which she had 
worn when she had seen the Halberstadter on that 
summer night, which was ever present in her mind, and 
yet seemed so strangely unreal to her. 

"I crave your pardon, cousin, if I have kept you 
waiting," the Queen said, as she entered the oaken 
parlour. 

" It is I who should pray forgivenness for coming to 
your Majesty at this hour," Sophie of Nassau said; " but 
I have news from Germany which you must only learn 
from my lips." 

" You bring ill tidings, Sophie ? " the Queen said 
quickly, and her face grew very white. " Tell me — I 
can bear all things save the slow telling of disaster which 
kindness prompts ! Is my King dead ? " 

316 



FAREWELL 317 

" The King ! Nay, ma cousine," the Countess answered, 
and there was a note of resentment and scorn in her 
voice ; " the King is right well and safe at Sedan as far 
as I know, but my brother " 

" Christian ! what ails him ? Quick — tell me ! " the 
Queen cried, and her voice was shrill and tremulous. 

" He is sore wounded, madame. There has been a 
great victory at Eleurus, which may even turn the tide 
of misfortune for the Protestants." 

" What of Christian — I care no jot for the victory. 
Sophie, tell me — is your brother dead ? " the Queen 
interrupted almost fiercely. 

Slowly, and in a voice choked with tears, Sophie of 
Nassau told her of the battle of Eleurus, of how the 
Halberstadter had won the day by his splendid dash and 
valour, of how the mutinous troopers had forgotten their 
ill-will in ardent enthusiasm for so dauntless a leader, 
and at what a price this youth of twenty-three summers 
had won the victory. 

" He is so young to be thus maimed," she finished 
piteously. " Oh ! cousin, it always seems to me that he 
is still a boy — we think so of our brothers. Forgive me, 
cousin — I am weak, I know," and she bent her head and 
wept. 

The Queen said no word, she sat there as one struck 
motionless; she pressed her kerchief hard against her 
lips, and her eyes, wild and strained, gazed out at the 
lime-trees beyond the garden, as though she saw some 
fearful scene. His hand that she had loved so — that 
white strong hand with the blue veins — his hand which 
had held her to him on that summer night. — She turned 
sick with an agony of comprehension, not alone of his 
physical pain, but because she knew that he would deem 
himself blemished in her sight. 

" Alack ! a poor maimed thing now ! " she remembered 
he had once said of a man whose foot bad been shot off 
in some battle. In her overwrought mind she saw the 
bleeding stump of his arm — she saw it hacked, and 
jagged, and fearful. 



318 THE WINTER QUEEN 

Suddenly she sprang up, " How far is Fleurus from 
here ? " she demanded. " How many days to ride ? " 

Sophie of Nassau looked at her in surprise " Fleurus ? 
Five or six days to ride, I should say," she answered 
wonderingly. " Would you send a messenger to my 
brother, madame ? Ah ! cousin, if you would, I think a 
word from you would be a surer balsam than a thousand 
essences." 

The Queen turned away. 

" I would go myself if I were his sister," she said in a 
low, uncertain voice. 

" What use should I be in a rough camp, madame ? " 
asked Sophie. 

" Use ! use ! " the Queen turned on her. " What use 
is life save to give it to those we love ? " All the bitter- 
ness of unsanctioned love surged in her heart. His 
sister would blame her did she know the passion which 
raged in her; his sister, who gave that good, peaceful 
afiection and would give no more, would blame the 
woman who yearned to face hardship — even shame — 
only to be able to give to the man she loved. She knew 
that the joy of life is giving, knew, too, that she was 
debarred from giving. 

" You will not go ? " she said. 

" I fear me Christian would scarce welcome me in his 
camp," Sophie answered with a little smile. 

" You are right, perchance," the Queen answered. She 
realised at that moment how those who harbour turbulent 
passion, how those whom God has made vehement, are 
usually proved wrong by the quiet wisdom of those who 
care less, of those who know, as the world deems it, how 
to care sensibly. With an effort she calmed herself 
outwardly. 

" Tell me more of what you have heard," she said. 

Sophie of Nassau told her that Mansfeld's letter had 
been brought to her by a trusty messenger from the Pro- 
testant camp. She had questioned the man herself, and 
he had told her many things. Christian had evidently 
been in a strange mood for many months before the 



FAREWELL 319 

battle of Fleurus. The man had said that the soldiers 
believed his Highness seldom slept, for the torch in his 
tent was never extinguished till the dawn brought another 
light. The soldiers had sometimes crept near his tent 
and watched him sitting, moody and fierce, gazing out into 
the darkness, or sometimes restlessly pacing, examining 
his swords or burnishing his helmet or his breastplate. 

" But this is not all," she said ; " I hardly can tell your 
Majesty — " she hesitated. 

" Tell me — I am no little maiden to be spared the 
knowledge of a man's life," the Queen said. " Besides, I 
am so — so true a friend to you and Christian that I 
would fain know all I can of him." 

" He sends for women from the villages, madame, and 
they come for the most part right willingly. Well, they 
are brought to his tent, and the soldiers hear him speak 
to them, and then — then he orders them begone, calls 
for them to be safely guarded out of the camp. They 
come from his tent laughing, for he gives them gold and 
trinkets and fair words — but — but," she hesitated again. 
" But that for which they came — for which he summoned 
them — that is not. And the soldiers say that the mad 
Halberstadter was never madder. Alas ! I, too, fear that 
my brother is insane." 

" What ! do you say so too ? Mad because he will not 
sink to be a wanton brute ! " said the Queen vehemently. 

" Nay," Sophie answered ; " but mad because, having 
called for wanton lust, he will have none of it." 

" Oh ! write and tell him that I — Sophie — Sophie — 
tell him that I honour him — that I trust him — that all 
my heart goes out to him. Tell him that I know — " 
She flung herself down in her chair, and covering her 
face with her hands, wept in an agony of tearing sobs. 

Sophie of Nassau came to her, timidly touched her 
shoulder, sought to draw her to her, but Elizabeth Stuart 
put her away. Sophie stood there silently. The Queen 
loved Christian, she had always known it, with that swift 
insight which is the inborn lore of woman ; yet she 
accounted this desperate grieving to be almost unseemly. 



320 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" My brother is not dead, cousin," she whispered at 
length. 

" Worse for him, tell him that I know that — but tell 
him that I give him no pity," the Queen answered 
brokenly; but she lifted her head proudly again as she 
spoke the strange words. 

" No pity ? Surely, cousin, all the world must pity a 
youth thus stricken," said Sophie of Nassau. 

" Tell Christian that I can never pity where I honour. 
Oh ! you cannot understand ! But tell him that I should 
never dare to pity him," the Queen answered. 

" I will write him your strange message, Madame ma 
cousine," Sophie said coldly, and, after sweeping the 
Queen a profound curtsey, she withdrew. 

Evil tidings came thick and fast to the Hague. 
Heidelberg had fallen ; Tilly held both castle and town. 
The treasures garnered there for generations had been 
sent to Munich, and the books of the famous library, 
packed in one hundred and eighty-four strong kists, were 
being despatched to Rome by Maximilian of Bavaria as a 
gift to the Pope. Holland, too, was in a sorry plight ; 
Bergen op Zoom, it was said, could hold out little longer ; 
even Maurice of Orange dared not attack Spinola's over- 
whelming numbers ; and Holland trembled at the possi- 
bility of an Imperial and Spanish occupation. The Dutch 
cursed the poor spirit of Friedrich of Bohemia; he and 
his army had been a good decoy, and had diverted at 
least a portion of the Imperial forces, and now the whole 
of the enemy's strength was directed against Maurice of 
Orange. Only one hope remained — Mansfeld and the 
Halberstadter's army. Would they reach Holland in 
time to save Bergen op Zoom ? 

The King wrote announcing his return to the Hague. 
He expressed his pleasure at hearing the Halberstadter's 
wound was healing. He wrote that immediately after 
Christian's hand had been amputated in the camp 
at Fleurus, a trumpeter from the enemy had come 
in, bringing a proposal from Cordova that Christian and 



FAREWELL 321 

Mansfeld should surrender and throw in their lot with 
the Imperialists ; and that the Halberstiidter had re- 
turned the proud answer : " I have but one arm now, 
but it is my sword arm, and with that I shall ever fight 
for my God and my Queen only." The King added : 
" God knows ! I love him as a brother." Elizabeth Stuart 
smiled a little rueful smile when she read this. Fried- 
rich's brotherly love had not dissuaded him from dis- 
missing the Halberstadter in the midst of a campaign ; 
had not prevented him from turning the man he " loved 
as a brother" into a condottiere, practically a brigand 
captain bound to a gang of robbers. 

With terror she realised that she would fain have had it 
that the King should remain at Sedan — away from her. 
She asked herself if she had indeed sunk so deep into the 
sands of passion that she had no longer either tenderness or 
true liking for Friedrich. She schooled herself to be glad 
at his return — he was unfortunate and unhappy, she must 
give him a measure of joy whatever it might cost her. 
She knew that he, too, dreaded the return to indebted 
penury ; he had even written how, before certain monies 
had been paid to her from England, he had feared a 
sojourn in the debtor's prison of the Hague. No, she 
would not fail him, would not for honour's sake and for 
pity. She had a wealth of pity for Friedrich, pity which 
she could not even associate with the Halberstadter. 

Then when the King returned, her heart went out to 
him in a glow of generous affection. He was so changed, 
so worn, so white and hollow-eyed, that she loved him 
with tenderness, and felt it no disloyalty to Christian 
to give love to this sad, broken being — to him who was 
her " man," after all. 

Alas ! those who live a double life in their hearts die 
a double death of agony. No one knows how torturing 
a task loyalty is, when loyalty is duty, and the whole 
soul is thrilling with another loyalty, which is love. It 
made it harder for her to be good to Friedrich when she 
heard that the Halberstadter was actually in Holland ; 
and when the bells of the Hague rang out in triumph for 

X 



322 THE WINTEE QUEEN 

tlae relief of Bergen op Zoom, it was all slie could do to 
hide her emotion ; for the siege of Bergen op Zoom was 
raised because Spinola dared not fight the massed armies 
of Maurice of Orange, Mansfeld — and the Halberstadter. 
Knowing Christian so near, her whole being was in a 
ferment of yearning, fear, rapture, doubt. 

The King spoke constantly of his wish to see the 
Halberstadter ; he sent messages praying him to visit 
the Hague ; even started a wild plan of re-engaging the 
services of both Mansfeld and Christian, for evidently 
King James's embassy in Vienna had again failed, 
and war alone could decide the Palatinate's destiny. 
Christian returned a courteous and evasive answer; 
he could scarce hope to be able to leave his army, and 
thus he durst not promise to journey to the Hague ; as 
for re-entering Friedrich's service, he was eager to fight 
in his cause, but he was bound to stipulate for a regular 
payment of the troops, as his own treasury was now 
empty. King Friedrieh, as usual, had no money, and 
thus the project was abandoned. The tardy payment of 
the six hundred thousand gulden promised by the States- 
General for the services of the Halberstadter and Mans- 
feld, was causing a spirit of mutiny in the army, for, being 
in a friendly country, the soldiers were forbidden to 
plunder. The Dutch, however, were now anxious to be 
rid of their allies, for despite the orders of their com- 
manders the men-at-arms, having no other means of 
subsistence, plundered in secret. Finally the States- 
General, through Maurice of Orange, promised immediate 
payment on the condition that both the Halberstadter and 
Mansfeld, with their armies, should forthwith leave the 
country. Mansfeld now proceeded to carry out a plan 
which had long lain hidden in his mind. Under the 
pretext that Count Enno of East Friesland, an allied 
Protestant Prince, was in treasonable communication 
with Spinola, he marched to East Friesland. The ex- 
ample of Bethlem Gabor, who, from being a condottiere 
and adventurer, had risen to be King of Hungary, worked 
potently in the minds of most of the great captains of 



FAREWELL 323 

the day; and Mansfeld dreamed of wresting East Fries- 
land from Count Enno, and proclaiming himself prince 
of that small country. 

The Halberstadter with his men retired to his old van- 
tage-ground between Paderborn and Lippe, and entered 
the service of those Protestant Princes of that neighbour- 
hood, his own brother Friedrich Ulrich of Brunswick and 
George of Celle, who were arming in case the adherents of 
the Protestant faith should be attacked by the Emperor. 
They justified this proceeding by declaring that, though 
presently at peace with his Majesty, they deemed it ex- 
pedient to have a powerful defensive army in the field, 
though they wished it to be clearly understood that their 
intentions were defensive, and in no way offensive to their 
liege lord, the Emperor. Sick at heart, the Halberstadter 
saw himself drawn into a maze of intrigue. He, who was 
uncompromising by nature, was expected to fall in with 
the compromises of half-hearted self-seekers, men who 
talked of the Protestant faith, of their neutrality, of their 
obedience to the Emperor, and were, all the time, secretly 
arming in case it might suit their policy to attack his 
Majesty's forces. Meanwhile Tilly, with a large Imperial 
army, waited in the neighbourhood, and the Protestant 
Princes were occupied with prolonged negotiations for the 
Imperialists' departure. 

Celle then became reconciled with the Emperor, and 
the Halberstadter was commanded to disband his forces 
and fling himself upon Ferdinand's mercy. Once more 
he stood alone ; those he had served repudiated him. In 
July 1623 he decided to march back to the Netherlands, 
but ere he left he formally renounced his administrator- 
ship of Halberstadt, in order that the Protestant Princes 
could continue their negotiations with the Emperor un- 
trammeled by his right as administrator to participate in 
their treaties. Christian was again forced into the posi- 
tion of a marauder, of an unemployed soldier of fortune 
at the head of a robber band. He was an outlaw, too, 
being under the ban of the Empire, and the word had gone 
forth that Tilly was to destroy him. 



324 THE WINTER QUEEN 

Hard on tlie heels of the Halberstadter's small army 
followed Tilly with his hosts. The pursuit became 
desperate — from pass to pass, from ford to ford, the 
relentless foe pressed him. After a few days' forced march 
the Halberstadter dared not even pitch his tents at night ; 
it was only possible to snatch an hour's halt for the much- 
needed repose, and even thus the enemy's foreguard con- 
stantly harried his rear-guard. God alone knew how 
bitter it was to him to fly thus before the foe, but he durst 
not risk a battle — he was outnumbered by ten to one. 
Near the township of Stadtlohn, on the borders of the 
Netherlands, Tilly fell upon him. Desperately Chris- 
tian and his men fought against the overwhelming 
odds. With Tilly's numerical superiority the battle's 
issue was a foregone conclusion, yet each man in the 
Halberstadter's army knew that in victory lay his only 
hope of life, for those who fought under the outlaw were 
outlaws and could expect no mercy. For seven hours the 
battle raged. The Halberstadter, it was said, fought not 
like a man but like a devil, yet it was of no avail — the 
flower of his army was cut down, and the remainder, 
broken by fatigue, fled in disorder, carrying away Christian 
himself in the fugitive stream. Young Thurn, who had 
fought bravely at his side, was sore wounded. He prayed 
Christian to abandon him, and to endeavour to rally the 
remnant of his army for a renewed attack, but the Hal- 
berstadter knew that Bernard Thurn would share the fate 
of the Bohemian patriots did he fall into his Apostolic 
Majesty's hands, and he refused to leave him. Despite 
the rush of the panic-stricken soldiery, he succeeded 
in staying beside the wounded man's rude stretcher, 
and at nightfall the melancholy little cortege arrived 
at Arnhem. In the town were many fugitives, and 
the Halberstadter immediately set about reforming his 
army, but there was scarce a full regiment left. At last 
the giant power of Austria had indeed crushed Elizabeth 
Stuart's champion. 

The Halberstadter and his remnant of an army took 
service with the States-General, and again in the autumn 



FAREWELL 325 

of 1623 Elizabeth heard that the man she loved was in 
Holland. 

The defeat of Stadtlohn was followed by the defeat of 
King James's diplomacy. Prince Charles and Bucking- 
ham returned from their romantic journey to Spain with- 
out the Infanta, and bringing bad news of the negotiations 
for the restitution of the Palatinate. Buckingham had 
offended both statesmen and courtiers ; Charles had made 
specious promises anent the English Catholics, which no 
one expected him to fulfil. Now was started a scheme 
whereby Prince Hal, Elizabeth's eldest son, was to be 
affianced to an Austrian Archduchess and educated in 
Vienna. If this was arranged, Philip of Spain undertook 
to procure the immediate restoration of a portion of the 
Palatinate to Friedrich, and promised that at the death 
of Maximilian of Bavaria, Prince Hal should succeed to 
the Electorate. Obviously the secret scope of this plan 
was the conversion to Catholicism of Prince Hal by his 
education in Vienna, and thus the ultimate imposition of 
a Catholic ruler upon the Palatinate. Friedrich, as in 
honour bound, refused this proposal, and Elizabeth Stuart 
expressed herself in vehement terms on the subject. She 
would liefer die, she said, than see her son a Catholic ; to 
pay such a price, even for home and affluence, would be a 
base desertion of Friedrich's vow to be the champion of 
Protestantism. The hope of a peaceful restoration of 
the Palatinate grew faint after this refusal, although the 
negotiations in Madrid dragged wearily on for some months. 

During that summer the Queen had given birth to her 
fifth son, Louis. The child was weakly and ailing, and 
Sophie of Nassau, who had lately been much with the 
Queen, thought that the restlessness which during the 
last year had tortured Elizabeth had had an ill effect 
on the little one. The Countess of Nassau guessed that 
Elizabeth, despite her outward, smiling calm, was rent by 
yearning and racked by hope when she knew the Hal- 
berstadter to be in Holland — glad and yet heartsore when 
she knew him gone to the wars again. There was no 
mention of all this in the ladies' talk, but since the day 



326 THE WINTER QUEEN 

when the Countess Sophie had told the Queen of the 
battle of Fleurus, there had been an unspoken under- 
standing between them, and Sophie had brought the 
Queen those few laconic messages which the Halber- 
stadter wrote to his sister. She had seen her flush, and 
her brown eyes glow, when she read the formal message : 
" I pray your Grace to tell the Queen that I am ever her 
faithful servant to serve her," or " Je suis comme toujours 
le serviteur de la Belle Royne," or " Je voudrois s^avoir si 
sa Majeste veult byen penser maintes fois a son serviteur." 
Sophie of Nassau, womanlike, wrote more freely to her 
brother ; she told him openly that " la belle " always 
spoke of him, that never a day passed where she did not 
inquire if she had tidings of him. But the Halberstadter 
— the silent one, as the Queen had called him — was 
characteristically reserved ; probably, with the ostrich-like 
instinct of the man who loves, he deemed that no one 
guessed his passion. 

One October day the Queen rode out to a hawking- 
party in the woods beyond the Bosch. The King, again 
feverishly occupied with a new scheme for recovering the 
Palatinate, was busy with affairs of State, and had not 
accompanied her Majesty. Elizabeth welcomed any pro- 
ject which gave Friedrich occupation. It was piteous to 
see him wandering disconsolately beside the Vijver, pacing 
along the Voorhout dejectedly, or talking with futile 
pomposity to some equally futile, pompous diplomatic 
agent, debating the schemes of nations wherein he, 
Friedrich, had no longer a voice, but wherein he had be- 
come a pawn or a pretext behind which matters of real 
import were negotiated. Thus, when some European 
complication gave him the opportunity to write despatches 
endeavouring to annex the interests of the Palatinate to 
the negotiations of some vaster enterprise, the Queen 
rejoiced. 

It was a still, autumn day ; the air smote fresh and cool 
as a draught of forest water ; the sky was grave, but 
friendly and suave. The beech-trees in the Bosch were 
already stripped of that glory of colour which, but a few 



FAREWELL 327 

weeks since, had clotlied them so regally. Now they 
stood bereft and gaunt, their branches like mighty snakes 
smooth and satin-skinned, and at their roots a carpet 
of russet leaves exhaled the fragrancy of autumn. The 
Queen rode her favourite chestnut mare, a being as 
haughty and sensitive as herself, eager and nervous yet 
perfectly understanding the light, strong hand which held 
the reins. All her Majesty's ladies were of the party: 
my Lady of Solms, Lady Phyllis Devereux, Mistresses 
Alison Hay, Stanley, and Clovelly; and there was, too, a 
new visitor at her Majesty's Court, Mademoiselle de la 
Tr^mouille, daughter of the old Electress Juliane's sister, 
the Duchesse de la Tremouille, and thus cousin to King 
Friedrich. This Charlotte de la Tremouille was a proud 
and spirited damsel, truly after the Queen's own heart, 
with something a trifle like a gallant in her bearing. 
My young Lord Strange, son of the Earl of Derby, sojourn- 
ing at the Hague to offer his homage to her Majesty, was 
there, and his eyes seldom left Mademoiselle Charlotte. 
The Queen smiled to herself as she saw this dawning love. 
Young Strange was something like Christel she thought, 
and she sighed remembering how Christel still languished 
in prison at Vienna. Albeit Elizabeth Stuart was bravely 
gay, sad thoughts often assailed her. Life and Death 
had both conspired to rob her of familiar friends. Lady 
Harrington had died in England some few months since ; 
Schomberg had fallen at the battle of the White Mountain ; 
Mistress Anne Dudley was dead ; Christel was in prison ; 
and the Halberstadter — alas ! Life divided her from him 
as relentlessly as Death itself. A gay voice broke in on 
her sorrowful pondering. 

" Madame, we shall have wedding bells here, for sure ! 
Look at Strange's face, and our cousin Charlotte is right 
gentle to him ! " It was Magnus of Wirtemberg who 
spoke. He had escaped from " the appalling worthiness," 
as he said, of Stuttgart's Court, and had come for a short 
visit to Holland, for although he had momentarily laid 
down his arms, this " merry Andrew's " friendship for the 
exiled monarchs was unwavering. 



328 THE WINTER QUEEN 

Magnus and the Queen fell a-talking of the days at 
Prague, and, despite the sadness of those memories, 
Elizabeth could not forbear laughter when Magnus re- 
called the matrons with their loaves, or mimicked 
Master Scultetus. 

They rode on, laughing and talking, till they reached 
the place appointed for the hawking, and then all other 
thoughts were banished by the amusement of the sport. 

The autumn evening was drawing in as they started 
homewards. Once more Duke Magnus rode beside the 
Queen, the rest of the party followed at some distance. 
Suddenly they heard the sound of galloping in one of the 
grass rides beside them, and a horseman dashed up to 
the Queen — a man in a green riding jerkin, and across 
his breast a sky-blue baldric in whose folds his left hand 
was hidden. His felt hat was drawn deep over his brows. 
The Queen's horse, startled by the rider's approach, broke 
into a gallop. At first Magnus spurred beside her, then, 
with an exclamation of surprise and a hurried lifting of 
his wide felt hat, he wheeled round and rode back towards 
the hawking party. 

There was something strangely dreamlike to Elizabeth 
Stuart in this unexpected interruption of the familiar 
monotony of commonplace life. In the man with the 
felt hat drawn over his brow, she had immediately recog- 
nised the Halberstadter, and although she had believed 
him to be far away on the German frontier, his constant 
presence in her thoughts made his unexpected advent 
seem but the logical and natural continuance of her 
mental life. 

For some time they galloped on in silence. The silvery 
beech-trunks seemed to rush past them. At length the 
Queen checked the horse. 

" Christian, for God's sake, speak to me ! " she cried. 
" I can bear it no longer. Beloved — beloved ! speak 
to me!" 

He drew rein beside her. He was white to the lips, 
and his brown eyes searched her face hungrily as though 
he sought to read her soul there, but he spoke no word. 



FAREWELL 329 

" Speak to me, Christian," she repeated tremulously. 
" I cannot bear to see you so. Ah ! I love you, love of 
mine — speak to me ! " 

" I am as one struck dumb," he answered hoarsely. 

" Then I must speak for us both," she said, " silent 
one — my silent one ! " There lay such a world of tender- 
ness in her voice as she called him by this name, which 
she had so often used in jest in the old days, that a half- 
sob rose in his throat. 

" I am a fool who cannot speak when feeling is so 
great," he muttered. 

" It was always thus," she answered, with a little 
wavering smile. " Oh, Christian ! the days have been so 
long without you ! — why have you not come to me before ? 
Alas ! you make me all unwomanly, for I must woo you 
as you should woo me ! But Christian " — how she lingered 
over that well-loved name — " Christian, our wooing days 
are over — or have never been. I only know that I love 

you." 

" Do you dream that I have forgotten ? " he broke in, 
" Elizabeth, I have known no thought save the love of 
you ! Would that I could tell you ! " 

" I know already," she said, and through her mind there 
flashed a picture of what Sophie of Nassau had told her 
of the camp and the Halberstadter's tent beneath the 
night sky — of the peasant women brought thither — of 
their mockery when they were dismissed — of how men said 
the Halberstadter was mad because he would no longer sink 
to debauchery ; would not, because he loved her as " no 
man had ever loved before," as he had once said. 

" Christian, I know right well that you have had no 
thought save of me," she said. " Oh ! that I could make 
it clear to you how you, and only you have reigned in my 
heart day — and night," she finished bravely, though the 
blood rushed hotly to her cheek at this avowal. 

Their eyes met and drew their souls together with the 
power of passion. 

" You will not leave me now," she whispered. " You 
will come to the Hague " 



330 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" No/' he said sternly, " I can never come to you until 
I have won back a kingdom for you." 

" What do I care for a kingdom ! " she cried vehemently. 
" I can never let you go from me again — never — never ! " 

He shook his head, and then as though some new 
thought stung him to madness, he spoke quickly, almost 
roughly. 

"Perchance because I am so maimed a creature, so 
unsightly now, you deem I can take the place of some 
tame house friend — you offer me pity — and the King's 
kindness," he added bitterly. 

" You are unjust, Christian," she said proudly, " unjust 
and ungenerous to me." She glanced over her shoulder ; 
she dreaded lest the other riders should interrupt this 
meeting which she thought was, perhaps, her last with the 
man she loved. She saw that Magnus was leading the 
cavalcade down another road, and she blessed him for it 
in her heart, as though he had given her a great gift. 

" Christian ! " she said, and her voice had grown in- 
finitely tender again ; " do not waste the precious moments 
we have together by such vain things. I love you, and 
all my soul is athirst to hear you say you love me ! 
Ah ! I know it — but I must hear it again — we women 
must ■" 

" I love you ! " he broke in ; " through life and in death 
I must always love you, Elizabeth." 

" When will you come back to me ? " she asked piteously. 

" If, and when God wills it," he made answer solemnly. 

For an instant silence fell between them. Far away 
a rook cawed hoarsely, and nearer in the wood there came 
the sharp yap of one of the hunter's dogs. 

" The hawking party will rejoin us in a moment," she 
said hurriedly. " There is one thing I would ask you, 
Christian. Give me something you have worn — a ring 
— a chain — it matters not ; but I would fain have some- 
thing to keep by me always, till we meet again. It would 
be my talisman." 

He glanced down at his ringless right hand which held 
the reins. He was not a man to wear trinkets. 



FAREWELL 331 

" Ah ! " he said, remembering suddenly, " I have the 
chain with the little jewel which my mother gave me. 
You will see why I wear it." With a dexterous 
movement of his one hand he twisted the reins around 
the pommel of his saddle, and unfastened the breast- 
buttons of his jerkin. Somehow his quick dexterity with 
his one hand brought home anew to her the tragedy of 
a man so strong and adroit being maimed as he was, and 
the tears rose in her eyes. 

He was fumbling with the clasp of the chain around 
his neck now, and she saw how instinctively he made 
a movement with his left arm — that arm whereon there 
was no hand. She bent forward in her saddle and would 
have aided him, but he shot her an almost hostile look, 
and violently wrenched the chain in twain. She held out 
her hand, and he laid in it a slight golden chain and 
a little crystal jewel whereon was engraven the name 
" Elizabeth." 

" You see why I have worn it," he said. 

She nodded. A wave of sadness drowned all speech 
for her, yet she yearned to cry out that all the world might 
go hang — Friedrich — her children — duty — honour — . 
She loved him, and nothing else on earth counted. 

Close among the trees she heard the sound of laughing 
voices and the tramp of horses. 

" They are coming," she said, " Christian ! Christian ! " 

" Give me your hand — let me feel your touch once 
more." There was no pleading in his tone, rather a 
command. 

She drew off her leather gauntlet and reached him her 
warm, strong white hand. 

He bent over and took it in his right hand — she was 
on his left side, and once more piteously she realised his 
grievous hurt — but all thought vanished as his touch 
came on her. 

" Christian ! " she murmured in a weak, shuddering 
voice, " Christian, my beloved " 

He crushed her palm to his lips — she saw how he closed 
his eyes while he drew in the fragrance of her skin, and 



332 THE WINTER QUEEN 

then the throb of her own passion surged in her and shut 
out consciousness for an instant. 

" Farewell, Queen of all my life ! " he said. He urged 
his horse to a gallop, and dashed down the grass ride. 

Elizabeth Stuart watched him go, and it seemed to her 
that the soft autumn had changed to cold darkness, as 
though the world's light had died suddenly for her. 

" We have found a good place for flying the young 
hawks, madame," came a merry voice close to her. 

" I thank you for much, Magnus," she said simply. 



CHAPTER XX 

" IF LOVE BE DEAD, WHY DOST THOU RISE, O SUN ? " 

" I think of thee, lost love, and testify 

The present pain cheap price for the dear past ; 

Though Fate through life all comfort should deny, 
And after death my loneliness still last, 
'Tis better to have held thee once so fast 

Than die without thy love, as others die." 

— Philip Bourke Marston, 

THE Qaeen liad passed through an o'erdarkened 
spell since that day when she had ridden with 
Christian in the autumn woods. Her baby son, 
Louis, had died ; pestilence had raged in Holland ; money 
was more than ever scarce ; and the King's creditors at 
the Hague, knowing how faint had grown the hope of 
the Palatinate's restitution, became anxious and pressed 
for payment. 

" It seems as though God's bounty is bestowed upon 
us only in childbirth," the Queen had said half-bitterly, 
half-humorously, when her sixth son, Edward, was born 
in the autumn of 1624. 

The exiles' political horizon was blacker than ever. 
The Palatinate, though still overrun by Imperial troops, 
was now officially a portion of Maximilian of Bavaria's 
domain, and he was universally recognised as Elector in 
Friedrich's stead. 

Towards the end of 1624 the gloom was lightened, 
and once more the exiles' hopes revived. The failure of 
the Spanish match induced King James to sanction a de- 
claration of war against Spain, with the avowed intention 
of delivering the Palatinate from the Imperial allies, and 
both Mansfeld and the Halberstadter were engaged by 



334 THE WINTER QUEEN 

England for the enterprise. Mansfeld repaired to the 
Court of France to solicit assistance in the forthcoming 
campaign, and the Halberstadter journeyed to England. 
It was pleasant to Elizabeth Stuart to know him to 
be a visitor in the home of her childhood, and she 
rejoiced when she heard of the fulfilment of her re- 
quest to King James that he should be a Knight 
of the Garter. She told herself that all this was of 
happy augury. She was assured that her sojourn at 
the Hague would soon be ended; she would return to 
Heidelberg, and the good days of peace and plenty would 
come again. Often she had remembered the autumn 
evening when she had bidden farewell to her orchard 
at Heidelberg, and had seen that uncanny procession of 
Neckar newts ; with an eerie feeling she had recalled the 
gardener's words : " They say the nasty efts march to a 
funeral, or to bid farewell to one who will never return 
to this country." It had seemed to her that she should 
indeed never see Heidelberg again, but now she smiled 
at her own despondency. England was at last in arms 
in the Palatine cause, Denmark had joined the enterprise, 
and the Halberstadter was to fight for her. 

A matrimonial scheme was a-foot for Prince Charles 
with Princess Henriette Marie, sister to Louis XIII. of 
France, and England had concluded an alliance with 
Holland, wherein one of the chief clauses was a definite 
promise of financial and military aid in the forthcom- 
ing campaign. England, France, Denmark, and Holland 
would surely prove too powerful a combination for Austria 
and Spain. 

In February, 1625, Mansfeld and the Halberstadter 
marched to the assistance of the Dutch, but before they 
reached the scene of action the town of Breda had fallen 
before the victorious Spinola. The Protestant army now 
moved southwards towards the Palatinate, but found their 
progress blocked by Anholt with the Bavarian army. 

In the March of that year King James died. Though 
Elizabeth Stuart mourned him dutifully, still it was with 
renewed confidence that she knew her brother to be on 



''IF LOVE BE DEAD" 335 

the throne of England ; for Charles had ever professed 
the most faithful affection for her, and she knew how he 
had always opposed his father's dilatory, half-hearted 
foreign policy. But her perfunctory mourning was turned 
to real sorrow a few weeks later by the death of Maurice 
of Orange. He had been a true friend to her from the 
moment when she had landed in Holland, journeying to 
Heidelberg, and, in the day of her dire need, when she 
had come to Holland a homeless exile, this uncouth warrior 
had shown her a chivalrous devotion. 

On his deathbed Maurice had advised his brother and 
heir, Frederik Hendrik, to follow the dictates of his 
heart, and to make Amalia Solms his wife; and thus 
hardly were the magnificent obsequies which the States- 
General gave to their gallant Stadthouder concluded, 
when the wedding bells for the new Stadthouder rang 
out. The Queen had always predicted this marriage, 
and she silenced my Lady Phyllis when she mocked the 
affianced Amalia's self-conscious superiority of manner. 

" Phyllis, Phyllis, I would I could see you all thus 
safely married," the Queen said gravely. 

" But not to a Prince Frederik Hendrik ! " Phyllis 
retorted. 

" Dulness is not always the worst fault in a husband," 
replied Elizabeth Stuart. " Frederik Hendrik is very solid 
in mind." 

" Oh ! and in body too ! " cried Phyllis gaily, " They 
will be like a pair of heavy Flemish horses, madame ! " 

" Good lack, girl ! they will protect virtue even in its 
most unalluring form; romance and wild ambition will 
hide from them " — she smiled and sighed at once — " and 
that is better for a country's ruler than soaring plans — 
and failure." 

But the Princess Amalia was to deal a blow to the 
Queen's pride which caused her Majesty bitter anger. 
Hardly were Prince and Princess Frederik Hendrik settled 
at the Binnenhof, when Amalia requested an audience of 
the Queen. This formal demand from one who had lived 
so long on the most informal footing with her, surprised 



336 THE WINTER QUEEN 

tlie Queen, yet she made ready to receive her Highness 
of Orange, as desired, in official audience. 

She assembled her ladies and the gentlemen of her 
Court around her, and awaited the new Princess's advent. 

" Phyllis, if you laugh I vow I shall dismiss you from 
my service," the Queen whispered as the parlour door 
was thrown open. She rose and swept a profound curtsey 
to Amalia, who responded by a deep obeisance. 

" It is a pleasure to me to receive your Highness," the 
Queen said gravely. Amalia glanced at her suspiciously ; 
she knew Elizabeth Stuart too well to believe her gravity 
to be genuine. 

"I thank your Majesty," she answered. "Ah! good- 
day. Lady Phyllis ; good-day, ladies." 

" Good-day, your Highness," returned Phyllis haughtily. 

" As I have a matter of importance to discuss, madame, 
I would crave your Majesty to speak with me in private," 
continued Amalia, growing very red. The Queen raised 
her eyebrows, but turning to her ladies, prayed them to 
leave her alone with her Highness of Orange. 

" Oh ! for the dear God's sake, Cousin Amalia ! " the 
Queen broke forth as soon as they were alone, " must we 
mince and bow as though we were strangers ? " She held 
out her hand frankly: " Where formality dwells no 
friendship is possible," she said. 

Amalia made no answer ; she took the Queen's hand 
shyly and stiffly, and looked embarrassed. 

" What is this matter which you would discuss ? " the 
Queen asked, after a moment's pause. 

"Your Majesty, it is irksome to me," began Amalia. 
She paused again, for the Queen's foot tapped the floor 
impatiently. " Very irksome," she continued. 

" Well, what is it, then ? Have you discovered that 
your marriage is not legal ? Or do you propose to declare 
war between Holland and — Bohemia ? " Elizabeth asked 
mockingly. Amalia's long histories before she got to the 
real business of the day, had always irritated the Queen. 
Her Majesty had air the impatience of a quick and direct 
nature ; she was wont to say with an echo of her Scotch 



"IF LOVE BE DEAD" 337 

nurse's phraseology : " I can't abide the fecklessness 
of these German women. They clack and whimper and 
never get to the day's work until they have frowsed them- 
selves into unsightly dullards ! " 

She sat down, and, leaning her arm on the table, rested 
her chin in her hand. Amalia looked around, and seated 
herself in the King's chair, which stood at the farther end 
of the table. She was Princess of Orange: now, she re- 
membered, and did not need the Queen's permission to 
be seated in her presence. 

" Well, cousin ? " said the Queen, after another pause. 

" It is irksome to me, madame," said Amalia again. 

" So your Highness has had the goodness to inform me 
— twice, I think," the Queen said icily. 

" It is about the carriages, madame — the Stadthouder's 
equipages," Amalia said; "your Majesty has some of 
them now." 

" Yes ? " said the Queen wonderingly. She had used 
the Stadthouder's coaches for over four years now, and 
the habit of four years is as powerful as the habit of a 
lifetime. " Yes, I have some of the carriages ; what of 
that ? " she asked. 

" Prince Maurice, my husband's sainted brother, was 
unmarried," continued Amelia Solms. 

" Amalia ! " cried the Queen, laughing, " have mercy on 
me and tell me something I do not know ! " 

" The present Stadthouder is married, and his wife has 
need of carriages, madame ; that is all," Amalia said shrilly, 
and her fair-skinned face grew pink-mottled with anger. 

" Of course, of course," the Queen said soothingly ; " but 
what has that to do with me ? " 

" Madame, we live in troublous times ; all the gold 
is needed for the army's maintenance ; more carriages 
for the Stadthouder's use cannot be purchased, and 
I fear the coaches your Majesty has now, can no 
longer be at your disposal — I regret it," Amalia finished 
awkwardly. 

The Queen rose. The colour had left her face, and 
her eyes had grown hard, 

y 



338 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" Is this a ; message from your husband, the Stadt- 
houder ? " she queried coldly. 

" I spoke with the Prince of Orange on the subject. 
Of course I could settle nothing without my dear husband's 
consent, madame. He is very generous and would have 
waived the question for a time, but we have agreed that 
such arrangements must end before their long continu- 
ance has caused them to become precedents," Amalia 
said, grown quite courageous now that she had dealt 
her blow. 

The Queen knew full well what was implied by this 
talk of precedents. Amalia meant that the loan of the 
carriages must be withdrawn, lest the exiles should con- 
sider this charity to have become their right. 

" I understand perfectly, your Highness," said the 
Queen haughtily ; " you need express no regret," she 
added, as Amalia came towards her, murmuring : " I am 
indeed grieved." 

" You need really not give the matter further con- 
sideration, your Highness. I shall not require the state 
carriages again." 

Amalia scanned the Queen's face in quick curiosity. 
" Perchance your Majesty will soon be leaving the 
Hague ? " she said. 

"At present I am the guest of the States-General," 
the Queen answered meaningly, " and I do not know how 
much longer I shall enjoy their hospitality. But, in any 
case, I shall not require the Stadthouder's coaches again. 
I pray you greet my cousin of Orange, and tell him I 
understand the situation perfectly." 

The shaft went home. Amalia knew that the Queen 
meant she was aware that the unfriendly action had not 
been prompted by the Stadthouder ; that it was Amalia's 
idea, and that Frederik Hendrik had given it his sanc- 
tion against his own good-natured inclination, guided by 
the demure determination of his outwardly submissive 
wife. 

" He will rejoice that your Majesty shows so ready an 
acquiescence," she began, but found herself silenced by 



"IF LOVE BE DEAD" 339 

the haughty bow of dismissal wherewith the Queen 
terminated the audience. 

There was bitter anger in the " Bohemian Court " at 
the Princess Amalia's action. My Lady Phyllis and the 
other ladies vowed they would not salute the Princess of 
Orange when next they met her, and King Friedrich 
would have laid the matter of the carriages before the 
States-General, while Lord Strange and Magnus of 
Wirtemberg were eager to wait upon the Stadthouder to 
remonstrate with him. 

" I pray you leave it be," said Elizabeth Stuart ; " the 
best pride is silence. We will buy caresses somehow ; 
besides, I can go on foot." 

"A Queen — a Princess Palatine cannot walk amon^ 
the rabble ! " cried Friedrich despairingly. Elizabeth 
Stuart smiled. 

" Dear my lord," she said, " I would have you re- 
member that there is naught I cannot do. Elizabeth 
Stuart is Elizabeth Stuart whether she walks in the mud 
or rides in a gilded coach. Such things can never make 
me less, nor more ! " 

The King bowed his head ; before her indomitable 
pride of race and being he always felt at once humbled 
and uplifted. In a way he felt her pride to be a protec- 
tion to him. 

A few caresses were purchased and paid for — somehow, 
though each day the state of the King's finances grew 
more deplorable and the creditors' importunities more irk- 
some. Yet hope was high in the Queen's heart, for 
Mansfeld, the Halberstadter, and the King of Denmark 
were actually in arms in Germany, and it could not be 
long before their victory would break the power of Austria 
and Spain. At present, however, though the belligerents 
confronted each other, and the whole of Germany was 
armed to the teeth, and there had been a hundred skir- 
mishes, no battle had taken place. Yet it was thought 
that all was going well. 

The marriage of King Charles of England with Henrietta 
Marie being now accomplished, France was bound to keep 



340 THE WINTER QUEEN 

faith with the enemies of Austria ; and the German Pro- 
testant Princes, though they gave it grudgingly, had been 
unable to refuse their support to an army enrolled in the 
name of Protestantism by the great anti-Catholic powers. 
Only two Protestant potentates had refused their support : 
John George of Saxony who sided with the Emperor, and 
the Elector of Brandenburg, Friedrich's brother-in-law, 
hung back as usual, alleging a dozen reasons for remain- 
ing neutral. Among the numerous pretexts which he put 
forward, the only one which had a semblance of kindly 
consideration for his unfortunate kinsman, was the plea 
that, as Friedrich's mother, Louise Juliane, and his two 
children, Elizabeth and Karlutz, were still harboured in 
Berlin, it was better to remain neutral and thus to insure 
the safety of their refuge. 

The Protestant army was confronted in Germany by a 
new antagonist, the Count of Wallenstein, a Bohemian 
Catholic, who had been called upon by the Emperor 
Ferdinand to enlist a separate army to assist Spinola, 
Cordova, Tilly, and the Bavarian Anholt, in exterminat- 
ing the " pestilent heretical rebels." The Emperor issued 
a proclamation commanding that the utmost rigour should 
be shown to Mansfeld and the Halberstadter ; it was law- 
ful to do them injury, it was unlawful to give them food 
or shelter. The Protestant Princes, alarmed at this stern 
decree, wavered momentarily in their loyalty to the Re- 
formed Cause, but only two actually submitted to the 
Emperor ; these were the Dukes George and Christian of 
Celle, Guelphs and distant kinsmen of the Halberstadter. 
There was a family intrigue underlying their policy. 
Friedrich Ulrich of Brunswick- Wolfenbiittel being child- 
less, his brother the Halberstadter was his heir, and the 
Celles hoped by espousing the Emperor's cause to win 
favour and eventually procure the outlawed Halberstad- 
ter's exclusion from the succession and the sequestration 
of his lands, which would then by hereditary right fall 
to them. 

For months the war dragged on ; there were skirmishes 
and intrigues, proposed treaties between the Emperor and 



"IF LOVE BE DEAD" 341 

his adversaries, quarrels between the Protestant com- 
manders, but still no decisive action was fought. In 
England the Parliament refused to grant supplies for the 
war unless Buckingham was dismissed from oflfice ; and 
King Charles, though he loved his sister and honestly 
desired to furnish the army with funds, loved Buckingham 
and his own prerogatives better, now angrily dissolved the 
Parliament. The supplies were thus not voted, and no- 
thing could be sent to Germany for the maintenance of the 
army. The King of Denmark believed this omission to 
proceed from bad faith on Charles's part, and a general feel- 
ing of hopelessness spread among the allied Protestants. 

Added to this the Halberstadter, weary and disheartened 
at length, was forced to abandon the army for a time, as 
his presence at Wolfenbiittel was indispensable if he would 
save his inheritance. Urgently his mother wrote that 
there was a plot in Vienna to depose Friedrich Ulrich, 
to sequestrate his lands, and to hand them over to the 
intriguing kinsmen. 

With rapture Elizabeth of Brunswick welcomed the 
Halberstadter back to Wolfenbiittel. He had ever been 
wild and fierce, and had brought her anxiety and sorrow, 
but she had always loved him a thousand times more 
than the tame, poor-spirited Friedrich Ulrich. He came 
to her now, broken in health, maimed in body, an outlaw 
with a price set upon his head, a man with sorrow writ 
large upon his face, when inattention lifted the mask of 
pride and courage which he wore. With a touching pre- 
tence of hopefulness she wrote to Sophie of Nassau that 
she doubted not a few weeks' rest and care would restore 
Christian to health ; it was only the fever which wore him 
thus, the low fever which had never left him since the 
battle of Fleurus. 

Sophie of Nassau hurried to the Queen with these ill 
tidings. Elizabeth Stuart was already discouraged by the 
tardy progress of the war in Germany, and by her own 
ever-increasing pecuniary anxieties, but she would not let 
herself believe that this sadness could be added to her 
misfortune. All things — only not this — not this. He 



342 THE WINTER QUEEN 

would recover, lie was so strong and brave, he could not 
die, save on the battlefield. 

Friedrich was absent from the Hague ; the building of 
a hunting castle near Rhenen occupied his Majesty greatly 
at this time. The munificent States-General had granted 
him a piece of land and some funds wherewith to build a 
house. Thus Elizabeth Stuart was at least spared the 
added torture of concealing her anxiety, and her sorrowful 
presentiments. 

" All things save this," she had said. How many a 
woman has prayed this same piteous prayer to God, before 
the blow falls which makes life bitter for ever ! 

The Spring had come; the lime-trees on the Lange 
Voorhout were radiant with their coronal of young leaves. 
Already in the garden before the Queen's house the tulips 
were overblown and many petals lay upon the earth. It 
was May, and the birds warbled of the coming of summer. 
Elizabeth Stuart sat writing to King Charles of England, 
Her long delicate fingers drove the quill swiftly across the 
pages ; she seldom paused to seek a word, for her thoughts 
ever travelled faster than that flying pen. Lady Har- 
rington had been wont to say : " Her Highness sweeps over 
the paper as though her pen were a besom," and truth 
to tell, the Queen's caligraphy, with its broad dashes and 
sweeping strokes, ever bore traces of her impetuous haste. 

She finished her letter to King Charles, signed that 
cramped monogram which signified E. B., Elizabeth Bohe- 
mia, and with deft fingers she began the folding of her 
missive. She struck a spark from a steel tinder-box, 
lighted a little taper, bound her letter round with a strand 
of yellow silken thread, and affixed the seal. Her thoughts 
had wandered to Wolfenbiittel again, and her usually 
dexterous fingers, unguided by her mind, proved dis- 
obedient servants of so careless a ruler — they spoiled 
the seal. 

At this moment a hurried footfall came in the corridor, 
and Sophie of Nassau entered the parlour unannounced. 
The Queen was busy with the resealing of her letter. 



"IF LOVE BE DEAD" 343 

" Is that you, Phyllis ? " she said absently, without 
raising her eyes from her occupation. 

" Ma cousine, it is I," said a tremulous voice behind her. 

" Sophie ! " cried the Queen, springing up, " what 
tidings — " but the words died on her lips as she saw 
Sophie's face, and the letter fluttered unheeded from her 
fingers. There was no need for Sophie of Nassau to speak, 
Elizabeth Stuart had read her tidings in her face. She 
stretched out both hands to Sophie. 

" When ? " the Queen asked in a low voice. 

" Six days since," she answered, and, burying her face in 
her hands, she wept quietly. 

The Queen stood silent and immovable, only her fingers 
clutched convulsively at her throat. For an instant all 
thought was banished by an awful choking, as though a 
cord drawn around her throat throttled her. Through 
the open casement there came the sweetness of the soft 
Spring air, and the sound of Prince Hal's blithe young 
voice in the garden as he played with his dog. Then the 
boy called gaily through the window : 

" Mother, mother ! Come and see how my dog can 
jump. Brady dog ! jump ! " 

Sophie of Nassau was sobbing. 

" Go, Hal ; I cannot come now," the Queen said gently. 

" Oh, do come and see Brady, mother," the boy called. 

"No, not now — I have another thing to do," she 
answered. What had she to do after all ? This was her 
life, this commonplace living with its manifold difficulties 
and cares — her children and their pastimes. . . . 

She pressed both hands against her eyes. There was 
some mistake — it was an evil dream — she would wake 
soon. Some day Christian would come back to her and 
all would be well. She touched the little jewel he had 
given her ; it was always hidden on her breast. 

"Sophie, what have you heard? There is some mis- 
take," she said almost stupidly. 

For answer Sophie of Nassau held a letter out to her. 
She took it, unfolded the sheet, and read. The whole 
miserable story was written there, how he had come back 



344 THE WINTER QUEEN 

to Wolfenblittel, how each day he had grown weaker, how 
the physicians had not been able to explain his malady, 
how he had suffered from a burning thirst. That his 
mind had wandered, and that in his delirium he had been 
constantly commanding an army, but that at the last — 
the Queen's vision grew dim, and the strangled feeling 
came again, but she forced herself to read on — at the 
last his mind had been clear. He had caused himself to 
be dressed in his buff jerkin and cuirass, with the sky- 
blue baldric across his breast, and had bidden them 
support him to the window, where he had stood, swaying 
weakly, but looking out — out as though he saw some- 
thing which no one else could see. How he had spoken 
no word, but silently had gazed out at the Spring, and 
then how suddenly his knees had bent beneath him and 
he had fallen forward, but his mother had caught him 
and had pillowed his head upon her heart. Then he had 
spoken one word — one only— and it had comforted the 
mother exceedingly, for with his last breath he had 
called her " Beloved." 

With a great cry that sounded almost as a cry of 
triumph, Elizabeth Stuart let the letter fall to the ground 
Over and over again she repeated Christian's death- 
word : " Beloved ! Beloved ! " 

Sophie of Nassau rose and came to her. The barrier 
of reticence was broken down between them. 

" Elizabeth," Sophie said gently, " let my mother in 
her sorrow believe that he indeed spoke to her — let her 
have this one solace." 

" Did you think that I would ever tell her ? Sophie, it 
is enough for me to know. Ah, God ! " the Queen broke 
out, " ah, God ! if I could but have given him more." 

" You have no remorse, at least. You never smirched 
your love," said Sophie, wishful to soothe her. 

" I would I had remorse, 'twere better than regret ! " 
the Queen cried passionately. 

Sophie of Nassau drew back a little. She was gentle 
and pure and weak, and she feared the Queen, as she 
had often feared the Halberstadter. She had always 



"IF LOVE BE DEAD" 345 

deemed them to be curiously akin, beings isolated by 
their own force and vehemence, resembling each other, 
though one had been so silent and the other was ever so 
spontaneously expressive in words ; yet it was as though 
each had been the completion of the other's being. Dimly 
she had always known them to be of the same race — the 
same world, and thus it had seemed to her inevitable that 
they should love. Nevertheless the Queen's impetuous 
frankness appalled her even now. 

" Remorse is the avenger of sin," she whispered, with 
that meek acceptance of axioms which is the refuge of 
such natures as hers. 

" Sin ? Remorse ? They are all names," the Queen 
answered wildly. " Sophie, leave me now — To-morrow 
I will seek to console you in your sisterly grief — but 
now " 

" God help you," said Sophie of Nassau, and, with a 
generosity rare enough in grief, she added : " Your sorrow 
is a thousand times more than mine, but for your com- 
fort I bid you remember his last word." 

She left the Queen, and after a moment Elizabeth 
Stuart followed her out of the parlour and betook herself 
to her own chamber. And there, where for the first and 
last time she had known the rapture of Christian's kiss, 
her pent-up agony now broke forth and she wept. Yet, 
with the strange working of a woman's soul, it was not 
on Christian of Brunswick, her dead love, that she called ; 
through her sobs came the broken words : 

" Anne, sweet Anne Dudley, would you were here to 
hold me in your arms ! Anne, you would have under- 
stood and helped me. I loved him — loved him as I 
never knew it was possible to love. Anne, I need your 
friendship in this dark hour, I am so alone — so friend- 
less — " Thus Elizabeth Stuart wept, conquered by the 
eternal loneliness of grief. 



CHAPTER XXI 

TIDIN.GS OF DESPAIR 

" C'est trop pleure, 
C'est trop suivy tristesse." 

— Jean de la Taille. 

ELIZABETH STUART'S life went on outwardly un- 
changed. The same struggles with penury, the 
same ever-defeated intrigues for the restitution of 
the Palatinate, the same round of duties and pleasures. 
No matter that the mainspring of her life was broken, 
she must go on — Queen, wife, and mother — there could 
be no breaking down for her. Uncomplainingly, proudly, 
nobly, she went through the years ; bore children for 
Friedrich, took part in his hopes and fears, consoled him 
for life's cruelty. Even death could not change duty, 
even despair could not banish courage. The painters 
only chronicled that she had passed her calvary, but on 
their canvasses they recorded, too, something of the 
grandeur of her bravery, which was cheerfulness in spite 
of sorrow. The face which Mierevelt loved to paint was 
no longer the same, though laughter — that shield behind 
which grief so often hides — concealed her sorrow from 
those around her. How strange it is that those who are 
bound closest by the bond of daily life, really see little of 
a man or woman's true aspect, miss the tragedy, overlook 
the rapture, are blind to the grandeur which is yet 
written on the well-known faces. The vision's focus is 
wrong, perhaps, and those who stand afar see more 
clearly. Yet if there is pain and loneliness herein there 
is a merciful ordering also, for the human soul shrinks 
before too sharp a scrutiny. But with the inconsistency 
which is eternally human, how we cry out for comprehen- 




Elizabeth of Bohemia. 

F7-om a jtniniing hy Honthorst in the National Portrait Gallery 



TIDINGS OF DESPAIR 347 

sion, how we thirst for nearness ! Impatient of that 
loneliness, which perhaps was given by God as a protec- 
tion, we for ever seek understanding, forgetting that only 
once in a lifetime can it be other than a corroding chain, 
forgetting that it is only bearable when it comes as a 
flash of intuitive sympathy, that the soul cannot bear 
scrutiny, God having made each soul to be alone. 

Nowadays, on Elizabeth Stuart's face there were written 
three things : the cheerfulness of courage, the patience 
which life teaches to the impatient, the sadness of an 
undying memory. She was never the same after the 
Halberstadter's death, and she deemed she had drained the 
chalice of sorrow. She knew not that in the dregs there 
remained the poison-drops of sordid anxiety, of the bitter- 
ness of humiliation, of the shame caused by those she loved. 

The monotonous life at the Hague went on. The 
campaign in Germany had languished for lack of funds. 
After the battle of Lutter, the only actual combat of that 
whole campaign, and where the King of Denmark was 
sorely beaten by Tilly, a truce had been concluded 
between the Protestant leaders and the Emperor. Magnus 
of Wirtemburg, poor " merry Andrew," had fallen at 
Lutter, and a few months after Ernest Mansfeld had died 
of a strange lingering malady, so similar to that which 
had killed the Halberstadter, that the talk was renewed 
of how both the Protestant champions had died of poison. 

With this fading of their hopes the exiles' daily life in 
the Hague became increasingly dijfficult. The creditors 
clamoured for payment, and the remittances from England 
grew less frequent. The sordidness of debt and anxiety 
pressed on Elizabeth Stuart. The house at Rhenen had 
risen stately and commodious, but the funds voted by the 
States-General were sunk beneath the weight of masonry. 
Many of the Queen's jewels vanished from her casket. 
The ruby buttons over which King James had made such 
a pother with sweet Mistress Anne and Schomberg in the 
old days at Heidelberg — the ruby buttons disappeared. 
Then went the pearl ring and chain which had once been 
among the Danish crown jewels, and which Anne of 



348 THE WINTER QUEEN 

Denmark liad bequeathed to her daughter " Goody Pals- 
grave." In fact, her Majesty's trinkets were much 
diminished in number. She said she heard it was the 
newest mode " not to bedizen oneself with gauds," but the 
reason of her Majesty's lack of adornment would have 
been clear enough if the kists of certain Jewish usurers 
in Amsterdam could have been examined. It seemed 
that, after all, and in spite of King Friedrich's strictures, 
a Princess Palatine could pawn her jewels. 

The States-General had given the Queen's children a 
mansion at Leyden, the house on the Lange Voorhout 
affording restricted accommodation. Only Prince Hal 
was constantly at his mother's side, for she loved her 
first-born with a tenderness which she did not lavish on 
her other children. She was wont to say that she could 
do all her maternal duty, attend to the necessities both 
of her children's minds and of their bodies, but that no 
one could commandeer love, not even a child from a 
mother. " Love comes as it listeth," she would say, sighing 
as she spoke the words. Then she would add, with one 
of her whimsical smiles : " No one can love a dozen 
children equally, and methinks God means to deal in 
dozens with us ! " 

Her eldest daughter Elizabeth, and her second son 
Karl Ludwig — Karlutz, as the King had sub-named him 
— had now left Louise Juliane's care in Berlin, and 
sojourned at Leyden with the other children. Such prim 
little Calvinists were these two mites, as Elizabeth Stuart 
declared. She was half-annoyed and half-diverted by 
their demure ways. She loved to poke fun at Karlutz, 
and to see the self-righteous little fellow's consciously 
superior air. As for the Princess Elizabeth, she had a 
veritable passion for study, and was the joy and pride of 
her tutors. But the Queen recalled King James's sayings 
condemning " over-learned lassies," and whispered to my 
Lady Phyllis : " Monsieur Sully said my father was the 
wisest fool in Christendom, but I vow his Majesty was 
really wise in many things. Strange that I should own 
it so late in the day ! Yet on the subject of over-learned 



TIDINGS OF DESPAIR 349 

damsels I am heartily with him. My daughter Elizabeth 
may learn a whole library, but she'll ever be a wearisome 
woman." 

One pleasure had come to Elizabeth Stuart during the 
last years, and that was the marriage of Mademoiselle de 
la Tremouille with Lord Strange. The Queen had been 
" godmother to a happy love," as she put it, and when 
letters out of England came, telling her that Charlotte de 
la Tremouille and her husband were peaceful and content 
at their fine country home, Lathom House, the haunting 
feeling that she brought misfortune to her friends left the 
Queen for awhile. 

Prince Hal was her chief occupation nowadays. He 
had grown into a tall lad, graceful and slender, with a 
delicate wild-rose complexion like his mother's. His 
brown eyes, too, were like hers, though they still retained 
the wide, appealing gaze of a child, and that sparkle and 
lustre which life so soon extinguishes. He was not 
" over-learned," albeit he studied swiftly and with interest, 
but he loved to ride, to hawk, to run, to laugh. He was 
truly after Elizabeth's own heart, and she thought him 
the very picture of her beloved brother, that other Prince 
Hal whom she had loved so deeply. Rupert, too, promised 
to be of " the same kidney as Hal and me," as she 
expressed it, but the others 

" Ah, well ! they are little Calvinists — so good — so 
fearsome good, that I could weep for sheer weariness ! " 
she would say to my Lady Phyllis. The people of the 
Hague, even her Majesty's creditors, smiled when they 
saw the Queen and her son riding through the town to 
the hunting beyond the Bosch. They were strikingly 
alike, for her Majesty's green velvet hunting-coat and 
her large brown felt hat gave her, for all the world, the 
air of a young gallant ; and Hal, riding beside her, straight 
and proud, wore the same cut of coloured jerkin and 
his hat was similar. The story went that a stern old 
Calvinist dame of Rotterdam had once journeyed to see 
the Queen of Bohemia, believing that this idol of the 
Puritans would be a severe and hideous object, which 



350 THE WINTER QUEEN 

would probably have edified the ancient lady's orthodox 
soul. But, alas ! she had waited on the Lange Voorhout 
to see the Queen ride out, and after the cavalcade had 
gone by, and she had been asked what she thought of 
her Majesty, she had answered wonderingly that she still 
waited to see the Queen, for as yet she had only viewed 
a troop of gallants riding past. Then when they had 
told her that the foremost " gallant " was Elizabeth of 
Bohemia, she had refused to believe them; and poor, 
honest old lady, she had waited many hours till the Queen 
had returned from the chase, and when she had made 
sure that " the Lord's handmaiden " was this graceful being 
in the man's hat and coat, she had thrown up her arms, 
calling God to witness that His ways were manifold and 
wonderful, but that, in her poor understanding, God and 
the Puritans had made a mistake this time. 

The Queen entered into all Prince Hal's pastimes, for- 
getting for a while the drudgery of poverty, the disap- 
pointment of high hopes, the sorrow of her memory of 
the Halberstadter. It was one of those friendships be- 
tween mother and son which onlookers call foolish favour- 
itism, but which is perhaps the purest love — the sweetest 
companionship that this world holds. He was her knight, 
her consoler, her joy, and he loved her with an exalted 
worship, pure as the knightly ideal itself. When he had 
been but a little fellow, and they had laughingly asked 
him whom he would wed, he had always answered 
proudly : " I am going to marry mother." And now 
that he was no longer a child, his answer was ever : " As I 
cannot marry my mother, I shall stay single all my days." 

Sometimes the Queen sighed, thinking how these were 
the sweetest hours of Hal's life for her ; he was so ab- 
solutely hers now, and the years must rob her of this 
entire possession. He would always give her a great 
love, but he would belong to another woman some day, 
and the mother would take the second place. It is 
nature's inexorable law, she knew, and she gave a tender 
thought to Louise Juliane and smiled, and a compas- 
sionate thought to Elizabeth of Brunswick and sighed ; 



TIDINGS OF DESPAIR 351 

then her heart drew itself together in a spasm of sudden 
anxiety, almost fear. What must it be to see the son 
of all your hopes lie dead ? 

One January day the Hague was in a turmoil of excite- 
ment, the streets were crowded with a stream of laughing 
holiday-makers, the church-bells rang out, patriotic 
Dutchwomen hung gay carpets out of their windows. 
News had come that the fleet had returned from the 
West Indies, and hard on the heels of the messenger 
who had brought these tidings came another rider, who 
told how fifteen mighty Spanish galleons rode at anchor 
in the Zuydersee, prisoners of the Admiral Pete Heyn. 
At last the dream of avarice was an accomplished fact : 
Spain's silver fleet was captured. For years men had 
spoken in hushed voices of the vast treasure which each 
year was conveyed to Spain from out the Indies — ships 
laden with silver, with gold, with pearls, with priceless 
cargoes of indigo, of sugar, of precious woods and rich 
furs. For years stories of this treasure-fleet had stirred 
the imagination of the Dutch nobles and merchants until 
it had become a tale, an Eastern fable, a phantasy of 
untold wealth. And Holland went mad with joy, ex- 
pectation, excitement, when the news came that this 
floating treasure-house really lay on the waters of the 
Zuydersee. The Hague seemed peopled with half deliri- 
ous men and women. Flags flew on hovel and stately 
mansion ; bonfires were lighted at street corners ; there 
was frantic, riotous rejoicing. The fierce factions of 
Calvin and Arminius forgot their polemics for a while 
— the treasure of the world glittered in their thoughts, 
and their dazzled souls turned from contemplating the 
glory of God, that glory which, of course, in the esti- 
mation of each sect, belonged only to themselves and 
was the glow of hell-fires to their opponents in theology. 
Pete Heyn the cabin-boy, who had risen to be an 
admiral, was the hero of the hour. What mattered it 
that he had performed a hundred far more heroic deeds ? 
Heroism was glorious, but unremunerative, while this 
easy capture of untold wealth gave him for the moment 



352 THE WINTER QUEEN 

a popularity as ardent as had been that of William I., 
the Deliverer of Holland. Everybody felt himself to 
be an incipient Crcesus that January day. Many songs 
echoed through the streets. 

"Piet Heyn, Piet Heyn, 
Zijn Naam is klein." 

The refrain of the popular song was yelled on the 
Plaats and the Vijverberg, from the Spui to the Kneu- 
terdijke. Street vendors shouted a jumble of numbers 
written on the freshly printed sheets, giving the latest 
estimates of the West India Company's dividends. The 
shareholders would reap a harvest of fifty per cent. El- 
dorado had come to Holland. " Huzza ! Huzza ! Piet 
Heyn ! Lang zal hij leven ! " 

The tumult echoed through Elizabeth Stuart's parlour 
at the house on the Lange Voorhout, where my Lord of 
Carlisle, newly arrived at the Hague, was seated beside 
her telling her the news of Whitehall. He told how the 
English Puritans made no secret of their satisfaction 
that Henriette Marie's first child, a boy, had been " born, 
baptized, and buried the same day ; " and how they still 
prayed that God would see fit to bestow the English crown 
upon " God's pure handmaiden," Elizabeth of Bohemia. 
The Queen had always indignantly silenced these too 
zealous well-wishers of hers. She knew that King 
Charles was a faithful son of England's Church, and that 
his leaning to Popery was a Puritan invention. 

" Ah ! my Lord of Carlisle," she said, " I grow so weary 
of religious factions ! These godly Puritans have made 
me out a theological marvel, and thus I am often plagued 
here in Holland with sour-visaged pastors, who discuss 
with me the tenets of Master Calvin and the opinions of 
Arminius." She laughed. " I pray to God, and try to 
do my duty ; and I care so little what Master Uyttenbo- 
gaert believes about the Holy Trinity, or Master Smout of 
Amsterdam preaches concerning Predestination ! " 

Lord Carlisle leaned back in his chair, and gazed at the 
Queen adoringly. He was an ill-favoured man, of sallow 



TIDINGS OF DESPAIR 353 

skin, whose features Elizabeth Stuart had adequately de- 
scribed when she had named him " Pig's-face." He was 
famed as being an honest, if incapable, diplomatist, and 
the most lavishly dressed courtier of his age. His osten- 
tatious splendour was a trifle vulgar, but it was redeemed 
by his kindliness and a certain indolent integrity. 

" I know nothing of theology, your Majesty," he said 
lazily, '' save that its discussion is mighty tedious," 

Their talk was interrupted by Prince Hal, who dashed 
into the parlour with flushed cheeks and eyes dancing 
with excitement. 

" Mother, mother ! Give me leave to go with the King 
to see the Silver Fleet on the Zuydersee. My father has 
decided to start to-morrow with Christopher Dohna! 
All the town is going ! Madame ma mere, give me leave 
to go ! " he cried. 

She drew him to her gently. "You would see the 
Spanish galleons, son of mine ? " she said, " and why not, 
since their advent will help me pay the butcher's wife, 
who had an all unqueenly audience of me again yes- 
tere'en ! " She smiled up at the tall lad. " I warrant, 
Hal, you care little that the capture of the Silver Fleet 
means that the West India Company will pay your mother 
fifty per cent." 

" I want to see Piet Heyn and the shining cargo, 
mother," the boy cried, brimmed up with enthusiasm. 
At this moment the King entered the room. After the 
usual raising of difficulties, which is the accustomed atti- 
tude of the Teutonic father towards any pleasurable 
excursion proposed by his offspring. King Friedrich con- 
sented to Prince Hal accompanying him to the Zuydersee 
on the morrow. 

" You had best read a treatise on shipping to-day, Hal," 
he said ; " thus you will combine pleasure with profit. It 
was thus that I learnt much in my boyhood at Sedan." 

Immediately Hal, who loved all appertaining to the 
sea, began eagerly to recount the rigging and displace- 
ment of Piet Heyn's ships. King Friedrich, who knew 
as much of seamanship as he did of the mountains of the 

z 



354 THE WINTER QUEEN 

moon, listened, half-proud of his son's intelligence, half- 
embarrassed by the knowledge that Elizabeth Stuart, 
amused if irritated, was observing " father schoolmaster 
hiding his ignorance from the young by pomposity," as 
she was wont to say. 

Friedrich, Prince Hal, Dohna, and a few gallants 
started betimes the next morning. They were to journey 
by road to Amsterdam, where a small schooner awaited 
them, placed at their disposal by the States-General. 

The Queen bade Prince Hal farewell merrily, telling 
him, with a smile, not to be a foolish babe, when he vowed 
that his interest had near vanished since she would not 
go with. him. 

" Do not sail away with Piet Heyn to capture another 
treasure fleet ! " she said, laughing, and then whispered to 
him : " I weary when my Hal is not with me." 

She settled down to a couple of days' uninterrupted 
enjoyment of her old friend Carlisle's conversation, for 
the weather had broken, and the unsmiling skies did not 
tempt her to her usual sledging. It was very homelike 
and restful in the house on the Lange Voorhout, although 
the velvet hangings were growing threadbare and the 
golden fringes on the chairs were tarnished and ragged 
in places. Already the exiles' poverty was evident in 
the stately rooms. But, after all, a few years must see 
their Majesties' return to Heidelberg. Monseigneur de 
Richelieu seemed to be more than ever inclined to a 
favourable policy for England ; he was doubtless displeased 
by the increasing prosperity of Austria. Any war against 
the Empire would mean the renewal of the efforts to 
regain the Palatinate for its rightful owners. 

Carlisle and the Queen discussed all this, sitting warmly 
beside the open fireplace in the parlour, while the wind 
shook the casements with angry gusts, and sent the rain- 
drops pattering against the window-panes. The Queen 
shivered a little. 

" I love the still, winter days of snow and frost," she 
said ; " these gales from the sea, sweeping over the Hague 
are unfriendly visitors. I have ever dreaded a sea-storm. 



TIDINGS OF DESPAIR 355 

Perchance I have inherited my mother's terror from when 
she crossed in a furious tempest from Denmark to Scot- 
land to wed my father." 

Carlisle laughed. " An ill thing, your Majesty, if we 
must be heirs to our parents' fears ! But the House of 
Stuart hath ever had strange knowledge of the past and 
of the future," he said lightly. A fierce gust of wind 
shook the casement, and like a horde of tiny furies the 
raindrops attacked the window-panes. 

" Nay, foreknowledge is a vain imagination," the Queen 
said. Then suddenly she cried out, " Ah ! I would the King 
were returned ; he has been ailing lately, and this storm 
will beat against his ship on the Zuydersee." 

" He should be far from thence by now, madame. 
Surely he will return here to-night ? " Carlisle said. 

A silence fell between them. The Queen leaned her 
cheek against her hand, and gazed into the leaping flames 
on the hearth. 

" Yes, he will return to-night. I would he were already 
here," she said slowly. 

Like a thief King Friedrich stole into his own house. 
The driving wind proved a good ally now, for its moaning 
hid the sound of steps on the gravel path, and the creak 
of the house-door. Dohna was with him and a couple 
of serving-men. The house lay in darkness save for the 
faint flicker of a rushlight in the vestibule, where a lackey 
waited up, in case his Majesty should return. It was long 
past midnight, and the Queen had retired to rest, believ- 
ing that the King and Prince Hal had taken shelter from 
the storm, and were lying at Amsterdam. Dohna drew 
the King into a small parlour near the house-door. 

" Bring food and wine," he whispered to the serving- 
man. " Go quietly, above all do not let any one arouse 
the Queen." 

Friedrich flung himself into a chair, and covered his 
pale face with his shaking hands. " Oh God ! " he mut- 
tered hoarsely, " must this befall me too ? How much 
more ? God ! God ! " his voice rose to a wail. 



356 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" Be silent, sire ; would you have the Queen learn this 
awful thing without warning ? " said Dohna almost roughly. 

" I can never tell her — who can tell her ? Why am I 
alive to bring her such tidings ? I could not save him — 
Dohna, will she ever know that I could not ? He was 
sucked down with the sinking ship — the waves ran so 
high — you saw it too ? Dohna, did you hear him cry 
out : ' Mon p^re, mon pere ! Sauvez moi ' ? Were you 
in the wreck ? I forget." He raved on piteously, weakly, 
his words so jerked out between his sobs and the chat- 
tering of his teeth, that they fell indistinct and thick like 
a drunkard's speech. 

The serving-man brought wine, and Dohna held a 
goblet to the King's lips and forced him to drink a few 
drops, though his own hand trembled so that he knocked 
the goblet's rim against the King's teeth. Dohna, too, 
had been in the wreck, but, being carried away by the 
fierce waves, he had not seen the swift tragedy of Prince 
Hal's loss. He himself had only been rescued with diffi- 
culty by one of Piet Heyn's boats, after he had clung 
to a floating mast for some time. The catastrophe had 
happened in an instant. The waves were running high 
beneath the gale ; but, surrounded by the whole of the 
West India Company's fleet and by the fifteen Spanish 
galleons, there had seemed to be little or no danger for 
the small schooner wherein the King and his companions 
sailed, when a sudden blast of wind drove the frail little 
ship against a Spanish galleon, and instantly the small 
craft heeled over, filled rapidly from the rent in her side 
which the impact with the larger ship had made, and 
sank in the wild sea, as though pulled down relentlessly 
by a mighty hand. Ropes and spars were thrown to the 
drowning men from the neighbouring ships, and most of 
the crew were rescued, save Prince Hal and the two 
sailors who stood near him in the stern. It was impos- 
sible to reach the boy, who disappeared in the waves 
with the one despairing cry of " Mon pere, mon pere, 
sauvez moi ! " to the King, who was clinging helplessly 
to a broken spar. Prince Hal could swim like a fisher- 



TIDINGS OF DESPAIR 357 

boy, but, in that sea and fully dressed, swimming was 
nigh impossible and he was drawn down by the suction 
of the sinking ship. 

During that terrible night Dohna had to listen to the 
King's endless recapitulation of the miserable story, and 
to his feeble, bitter self-reproaches. At dawn Christopher 
Dohna left him with a serving-man and hurried to the 
Golden Head, the inn where my Lord of Carlisle lay. Some 
one must tell the Queen — the King could not — dared 
not. Somehow the fickle, over-dressed, over-perfumed, 
ostentatious courtier Hay, Viscount Doncaster, Earl of 
Carlisle, seemed to be the only person who could under- 
take this awful task. The Countess of Nassau was away 
from the Hague. Could her Highness Amalia of Orange 
tell the Queen ? In the midst of his sadness, Dohna 
smiled as he hurried down the Hoogstraat to the hostelry. 
Her Highness of Orange had never forgiven the Queen 
for a remark her Majesty had been overheard to make 
to my Lady Phyllis Devereux as they left the Binnenhof 
after visiting the Princess of Orange, who, proud mother 
of her first child, had lain a-bed. 

" Poor Amalia ! " the Queen was reported to have said ; 
" she is very well in health, but oh ! how ugly in that 
hideous, plain bed-gown ! Why must virtue so often 
drape itself in thick linen, alack ! " There had been a 
coolness between the ladies since that day, which was not 
lessened by the fact that his Highness the Stadthouder 
remained the Queen's admiring partisan, and, whenever 
he had paid a fleeting visit to the Hague during the pro- 
tracted siege of Hertogenbusch, he had always repaired 
to the house on the Lange Voorhout to offer his faithful 
homage to his cousin's wife. 

" My dear husband is so kindly to the poor Queen," 
Dohna had once heard her His^hness remark, and her 
accent of sour pity had seemed an insult to its object. 
No, the Princess of Orange was scarcely the person to 
break the terrible news to her Majesty. 

They told her in the morning that the King had not 



358 THE WINTER QUEEN 

yet returned, and she rose and dressed as usual, gave 
her commands for the day, ordered the servants to pre- 
pare for the dinner the dishes which the King and Prince 
Hal preferred. They would surely be home that day, 
and would be weary and hungry after their long jaunt. 
She noted that her tiring-woman's eyes were reddened 
with weeping. 

" What is amiss, my poor girl ? " she said kindly ; but 
the woman had the wit to tell her that she had quarreled 
with one of the serving-women, and the Queen inquired 
no further. 

They came and announced that my Lord of Carlisle 
was below and craved audience of her Majesty, and 
without anxiety she went to greet her old friend. 

She came gaily into the parlour, which on that clear 
morning was flooded with sunshine. She said lightly to 
him that she was still a deserted wife and mother ; 
laughingly averred that the King must be robbing the 
Silver Fleet, as he stayed away so long. Then, seeing 
Carlisle's white face, she cried out that he was surely ill, 
and, when he shook his head, she stopped short, like one 
who suddenly sees the brink of an abyss. 

" Carlisle ! what have you come to tell me ? " she 
asked. And then — somehow — he had told her, told her, 
he said afterwards, " like a fool or a brute." 

" Madame, there has been an accident on the Zuyder- 
see. Your son is drowned — " He thought she had not 
heard him, for the smile on her lips remained unchanged ; 
she was like one turned to stone with that gay smile 
untouched, save that it seemed to be fixed for ever. 

He told her all he knew — of the wreck, of the surging 
waves, of how the King had been barely rescued. She 
uttered no word, but gazed at him as though he had 
spoken in an unknown tongue. And then, very quietly, 
she sank down at his feet like a broken flower. 

For days she lay insensible. Perchance some angel 
who had been a woman once, had laid a merciful hand 
upon her, stilling her consciousness — some angel who 
knew that there are agonies too great to bear. 



TIDINGS OF DESPAIR 359 

The King kneeled at her bedside, moaning and weep- 
ing, praying her not to desert him too ; but she lay with 
her still, white face upturned to the embroidered balda- 
quin of the four-poster bed, her long brown lashes sweeping 
her cheek, her lips calm as the lips of the dead. 

As one who wakens from sleep, she came back to life 
at last. She knew them all, but she was very weak 
physically. She never spoke, and they had the mercy 
to let her be. Dohna took the King away to Rhenen. 
The physicians said that she was so weak that a further 
strain would leave her hopelessly insane. 

She lay there quite still, tearless, silent. They thought 
she had forgotten the awful message which my Lord of 
Carlisle had brought her. 

One morning, about six days after they had carried 
her to her bedchamber, she was lying as usual motion- 
less, seemingly detached in mind and soul from all the 
world. Beside her bed was Carlisle, who had prayed to 
be allowed to watch over her while her ladies break- 
fasted. The door was standing a little ajar; it creaked, 
and a blunt, brown nose pushed it open, and Prince Hal's 
spaniel crept in. Carlisle held his breath. The dog had 
never left the boy, and since his death he had wandered 
about the house, piteously seeking the little master he 
would never find again. Perhaps Hal's dog would recall 
the mother — ah yes ! to agony, but to life. Carlisle's 
right hand caught the delicate lace of his sleeve-ruffle 
and twisted it to a string. The sweat-drops stood out 
on his sallow face. He deemed that on what happened 
now depended the sanity of Elizabeth Stuart. 

The dog sniffed about the room seeking, ever seek- 
ing, his dead master. Deliberately, wagging his tail, he 
came up to the bed, and, standing on his hind legs, he laid 
his soft fore paws on the embroidered coverlet. The 
Queen opened her eyes, feeling the weight on the cover- 
let and hearing the rasp of the paws against the satin. 
Slowly her hand went out and rested on the dog's smooth, 
silky head, and she spoke in a weak, thin voice as of one 
who is returning from mortal sickness : 



360 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" Brady ! poor one, what is it ? " The dog whined 
piteously and clambered awkwardly up beside her, 
nozzling his blunt nose in her white, listless hand. 

Carlisle bent forward. " He seeks him, madame ; he 
seeks Prince Hal ! " 

She turned her great, sombre eyes upon him with the 
despairing glance of a hunted deer at bay, and then her 
look travelled down to the dog. He gave a short, sharp 
yap, and looked at her questioningly. 

She sat up weakly and drew the animal to her. 
" Brady dog — Brady dog ! " she said, and the poor beast 
whined again, hearing the familiar name, for his master 
had always called him " Brady dog," and the Queen's 
voice was so like Hal's. 

Then, at last the Queen's strange apathy broke, and 
the tears came. She fell back on her pillows, weeping 
wildly. The dog, whimpering, crept close, and she put 
her arm round his neck and held him to her. My Lord 
of Carlisle rose noiselessly and slipped from the room, 
closing the door carefully behind him. " My God, I 
thank Thee," he said solemnly. 

There was not only pain in Elizabeth Stuart's heart, 
but an infinite yearning pity for the child thus wrenched 
away from all he had been taught to trust. She agonised 
at the thought of Hal whom she had sheltered, whose 
weakness had ever clung to her strength, being flung out 
to battle alone in the world of the dead. In vain she 
told herself that God Almighty gathers the dead into His 
safe keeping — she was always tortured by the vision of 
the boy striving towards her with outstretched, imploring 
hands and questioning eyes. She saw him bewildered — 
lonely. She heard him call to her : " You who hav^e 
never failed me, you whom I trust, will you fail me now ? 
Why am I abandoned ? " She pictured to herself those 
beloved brown eyes gazing over the crest of a ruthless 
wave ; she heard him cry out, " Mon pere, mon pere ! 
Sauvez moi ! " 

At times a passion of rage and scorn against King 



TIDINGS OF DESPAIR 361 

Friedrich filled her. He had heard Hal calling on him 
for help, and yet he had lived to say: "Our son is dead 
— I could not save him." 

It was nothing, she told herself, that she missed the 
boy, that each hour brought her as a physical suffering, a 
stab of memory of happy days, the remembrance of 
trivial things, of shared pleasantries, of the little common- 
place sayings of companionship. Though this was pain 
unutterable, she felt that because it was her own pain 
she could bear it, nay, would master it, so that bitterness 
should not mar the beauty of her memory of her first- 
born. Her first-born ! God never gives so fair a gift as 
a woman's first-born child— and if He takes it back — 
may He have mercy on each mother who must suffer 
this awful grief! 

Yet Elizabeth told herself proudly that she could bear 
all things — there was no limit to courage — but that 
which tugged at her heart-strings because it was not her 
own pain and she might not assuage it, was the pain 
that she feared for Hal. She knew not if he suffered, 
yearned, was afraid, or, pray God ! was at peace ? No 
price would have been too great to pay for this know- 
ledge, she thought. Surely, surely, the wealth of love 
and sorrow which she gave must be counted as payment 
for peace and some fair beatitude for him, wherever he 
was ? 

" God, God of the sorrowful," she prayed, " let me 
suffer, but give him rest." And she listened for some 
answer, sought for some certitude — she, the reasonable 
woman, who knew that there is no answer and no 
certitude on earth. 

The dull days of grief went on. She thought she had 
lived ' a life's span since that far-off terrible day. But 
there comes a time when the soul cannot, nay, will not 
suffer more. It is as if the well of tears were dry, as if 
agony had exhausted the power of sorrowing. 

" II faut parler de chasse et non de larmes, 
Parler d'oyseaux et de chevaux et d'armes, 
C'est trop pleure." 



362 THE WINTER QUEEN 

Yet it is no merciful indifference which comes to the 
stricken heart, but rather an impotence to suffer more, a 
desperate clinging to the joy of life, an almost frenzied 
turning to gaiety or its semblance, And, indeed, there 
is healing therein, for Time is thus given respite to work 
his will. Time and Sorrow are combatants, and Sorrow 
thus temporarily paralysed. Time gains a slow victory. 

So it was with Elizabeth Stuart, and though her eyes 
were full of despair, her lips learned to smile again, the 
lassitude of body left her, and she took part once more 
in hunts and merrymakings. Some who saw her mocked. 
" She is soon cured," they said. But those who spoke 
thus were the men and women who, being incapable of 
fierce suffering, did not know that unless merciful death 
comes swiftly to the deeply stricken, there is an absolute 
necessity for the strong natures to return to the fulness 
of life. They cannot creep about, these strong ones, 
cannot crawl through the days whining. As the strong 
body must take nourishment to live, so must the strong 
soul drink of the fountain of occupation and joy — or go 
under in madness. 



CHAPTER XXII 

THE WINTER KING 

" O weary life ! O weary death ! 
O spirit and heart made desolate ! " 

— Tennyson 

ONCE more the exiled monarch's hopes revived. The 
increasing power of Austria had long displeased 
France. The Hanseatic League, though tradi- 
tionally loyal to the Empire, had bitterly resented the 
Emperor's attempt to tamper with the freedom of their 
trade in the North Sea and the Baltic. Upon their 
refusal to allow their ships to be under an Imperial Nor- 
thern Admiralty, Wallenstein, created Duke of Mecklen- 
burg since his conquest of that dukedom in the name of 
Austria, had beleaguered the Hanse town Stralsund, whose 
citizens had called in the aid of Christian of Denmark 
and of Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden. After a prolonged 
siege the Imperial troops had been withdrawn, Denmark 
had made peace with the Emperor, and the Northern 
Admiralty scheme had been temporarily abandoned. 

It had seemed as though peace approached at last, 
when in March, 1629, the Emperor promulgated the 
Edict of Restitution, and it was clear that the cessation 
of hostilities was but a lull in the storm. Even Ferdi- 
nand's own advisers urged him to withhold the Edict, 
which all knew must cause the continuance of war ; but 
Ferdinand now dropped the mask of toleration which he 
had worn so long, and revealed himself as the fanatical 
servant of Ultra-Romanism and as a greedy amasser of 
wealth for the House of Hapsburg. The Edict decreed 
the restitution of all Church property held by the Pro- 
testants even in the Protestant countries of the Empire : 

363 



364 THE WINTER QUEEN 

archbislioprics, now the appanage of princes, bishoprics, 
monasteries, broad acres of Church lands which had been 
sequestrated at the Reformation. These, for the most part 
Ferdinand bestowed, in anticipation, upon his eighteen- 
year-old son Leopold William, despite the Church's decree 
interdicting the accumulation of Church dignities and 
wealth upon one individual, be he prince or priest. From 
every side the Edict was greeted by a storm of rage. Even 
the Pope, seeing that the Hapsburg intended to garner 
the rich harvest, expressed his disapproval. This fresh 
Imperial aggression decided Gustavus Adolphus to oppose 
the Emperor by force of arms. The Austrian Baltic policy 
had been a distinct menace to Sweden, and if Northern 
Europe was to share the fate of Bohemia and be made 
Catholic at the point of the sword, Gustavus Adolphus's 
right to the Swedish crown was challenged. The Emperor 
had ever refused him the title of King, which he gave to 
Gustavus Adolphus's Catholic cousin, Sigismund of Poland, 
from whom Sweden's crown had been wrested by the Pro- 
testant Charles IX., father to Gustavus Adolphus. Poland 
and Sweden had long been at war, and the Emperor had 
repeatedly sent monies and troops to Sigismund. Gustavus 
Adolphus now concluded a treaty of peace with Poland, 
and prepared to take the field in the name of oppressed 
Protestantism. 

King Charles of England, engaged in negotiations with 
Ferdinand, refused to take part in the coming campaign ; 
and Richelieu, although he looked favourably upon any 
enterprise calculated to harrass the Empire, considered 
Gustavus Adolphus as a condottiere of the type of Mans- 
feld or of Bethlem Gabor, another brilliant adventurer who 
would flash through Germany and then gutter out like a 
torch before the mighty breath of Austria's power. There- 
fore, though Richelieu sent a large sum of money to 
Gustavus, France oflScially held aloof. 

Towards the beginning of July 1 6 3 0, Gustavus Adolphus, 
with thirteen thousand men, landed on the coast of Pome- 
rania. At first the campaign went rather tamely, and 
Gustavus only gained small victories, although the Im- 



THE WINTER KING 365 

perial troops were half-hearted in consequence of their 
leader Wallenstein's absence. He had been recalled by- 
Ferdinand to answer the charges brought against him 
by the electors in conclave at Regensburg. Ferdinand, 
desirous of procuring the nomination of his son as King 
of Rome, was truckling to the electors upon whose vote 
this nomination depended ; and although he, in obedience 
to their wishes, dismissed Wallenstein, the electors refused 
him their votes. Wallenstein retired to Prague, and Tilly, 
now an old man of seventy-four, was placed in command 
of the Imperial forces in his stead. 

Meanwhile the citizens of Magdeburg, fearful lest by 
the Edict of Restitution they should be forced to accept 
the return of a Popish archbishop, had declared for Gus- 
tavus, and had placed their city in a state of defence. 

In the late autumn of 1630 Gustavus, having con- 
quered Pomerania, at last marched southwards, but still 
no decisive action was fought, although the Swedes suc- 
ceeded in taking Frankfort on the Oder. In May 1631 
Magdeburg fell before Tilly ; the inhabitants were cruelly 
massacred, and the whole town burnt in spite of Tilly's 
efforts to check his brutal soldiery. There followed the 
battles of Werben and of Leipzig. The victorious Gus- 
tavus then marched through Thiiringen and Franconia 
to the Rhine, and invested Mainz and Frankfurt on the 
Main, where he decided to remain in safe quarters for 
the winter. 

John George of Saxony, alienated from the Empire by 
Ferdinand's refusal to cancel the Edict of Restitution, had 
sent his army to serve under Gustavus ; these troops the 
Swedish king had despatched soon after the battle of 
Leipzig to hold Prague in the name of Protestantism. 
Gustavus now invited King Friedrich to repair to Frank- 
furt to join in the great campaign against Romanism and 
oppression. The Swedish monarch, who had once been a 
suitor for the hand of Elizabeth Stuart, proclaimed him- 
self to be her champion — his sword should redress her 
bitter wrongs, he would win back a kingdom for her, he 
fought for her and the Protestant faith. 



366 THE WINTER QUEEN 

Charles of England still refused his aid, and her 
Majesty wrote to him a little bitterly that, if he " did 
nothing but treat," she and her family would remain for 
ever a burthen upon him. Angrily King Charles cried 
out that his sister misjudged him ; with an exchequer over 
two millions in debt, how could he undertake to support 
an army ? He granted permission, however, to James, 
Marquis of Hamilton, to raise a troop of volunteers, and 
he managed to screw a decent sum out of his exhausted 
treasury, but even this was done under the seal of secrecy, 
for England was in treaty with Austria. 

Yet surely the dawn of a brighter day was breaking for 
the exiles. 

" We cannot always be unfortunate ! " the Queen cried. 
" Every dog hath his day, dear my lord ; and sure, our 
day is coming." 

But Friedrich gazed gloomily through the rain-blurred 
parlour-window. " We had our day at Heidelberg — it 
will never return to us," he said. 

" Courage ! " she cried half-angrily ; " the States have 
voted you a hundred and fifty thousand thalers ; they 
have given you two thousand of their best cavalry as 
escort ; our kind, dull cousin of Orange hath given twenty 
thousand thalers — in spite of Amalia, I'll be bound ! 
Come, poor sad one ! all is going well. Courage ! " 

He came to her, and, kneeling down beside her, he 
rested his brow on her shoulder. "Dear heart," he 
murmured, " my mind misgives me. Methinks misfor- 
tune is a bad habit which we have fallen into. I have 
hoped so often that I am afraid of hoping." 

" Friedrich, this is weakness ! " she said gently. " You 
are too strong to give in to hopelessness." 

" I strong ? " he laughed bitterly. " I sometimes think 
that my very life depends on your strength, and that, if 
you were far from me and illness came, I should die just 
because you were not near." 

There was something infinitely pitiful in this avowal, 
this relinquishing of all dignity of being by a man who 
usually cloaked his weakness by a pompous assumption 



THE WINTER KING 367 

of manly independence. What lie spoke was true enough, 
and both he and Elizabeth Stuart had long known it. 
But there are some things which must never be put into 
words, or that which was a tacit understanding becomes 
an open degradation. 

Elizabeth had lately given birth to another child. " Pray 
God, it is not the commencement of a new dozen," she had 
said, with one of her whimsical smiles, for though sorrow, 
despair, and humiliation had swept over her, her sense of 
humour never failed her. " You see, I am ever of my 
wild humour to be merry," she had once written to Louise 
Juliane, who had sighed when she had read the words, 
thinking that Elizabeth Stuart was incurably frivolous, 
though even her Calvinistic soul, half-surprised, had paid 
tribute to this dauntless woman. 

There was tremendous excitement in the Hague over 
the preparations for the King's departure, and daily re- 
cruits came in oflPering their services. A whole army 
corps could have been enrolled, but Friedrich dared not 
saddle himself with too large a force, as his funds were 
inadequate to support more than a hundred horse. 

For years a veritable troop of young English gentle- 
men had come to the Hague, ostensibly to learn the 
theory of warfare under Frederik Hendrik of Orange, who 
had shown himself to be a worthy successor to his brother 
Maurice, and there were even some who said that his 
military prowess, though less showy, was more efficacious 
than his predecessor's. Be this as it may, the Hague 
was filled with young foreigners studying strategics, and 
haunting the " Bohemian Court." Among them was Sir 
William Craven, the son of a rich London merchant. He 
had served with distinction under Frederik Hendrik at 
the protracted siege of Hertogenbusch, and returning to 
England with letters of warm recommendation from his 
commander. King Charles had conferred a peerage upon 
him. But a magnet drew Lord Craven back to the Hague. 
He was still a youth, for he had been only sixteen when 
in Holland, and Elizabeth Stuart had scarce noticed the 
gentle, quiet boy with the steady grey eyes. But a patient 



368 THE WINTER QUEEN 

devotion had grown in Craven's heart for the exiled Queen. 
Very short and slight, he ever looked younger than he was, 
and gradually she grew accustomed to his quiet presence. 
King Friedrich liked him, and he was constantly invited 
to the house on the Lange Voorhout. " Little Craven," 
and " the little man," she called him, and she treated him 
almost as a child. 

When it was settled that the King was to join Gustavus 
Adolphus, Craven prayed to be allowed to journey to the 
camp as one of his Majesty's own gentlemen, and some- 
how Elizabeth Stuart felt that she could let Friedrich 
go forth with a quieter heart if the " little man " went 
with him. 

The Hague citzens gave the King an ovation. En- 
thusiastic crowds lined the streets, flags flew, the church- 
bells chimed merrily. In the Council Chamber of the 
Binnenhof the States-General assembled to bid him God- 
speed. The grave, black-clad burgesses bowed before him 
as though he had been already a hero returned from 
victory. It seemed as though the whole world was assured 
that at length the unfortunate monarch's luck had turned. 
And Friedrich, ever easily elated and as easily cast down, 
caught fire from their warm confidence and promised a 
speedy return. 

'' My reverend sirs ! " he cried, " I doubt not that 'twill 
be but a few months ere I come to bear away her Majesty 
and my children to my reconquered dominions, yet I 
Avould pray a last favour from your unfailing bounty, 
this : that you should guard the widow and the orphans 
until my glad return." He spoke half-jocosely, and the 
ill-omened words fell heedlessly from his lips, but some 
among his hearers wondered that he should speak thus ; 
yet, for the nonce, amid the general acclamation the 
strange saying was forgotten in the interest aroused by 
the speech made by Jacob Cats, the Pensionary of Dor- 
drecht, who had been chosen by the States as spokesman 
that day by reason of his known friendship with their 
Bohemian Majesties. 

The King marched out of the Hague with his hundred 




The King of Bohemia. 

After a picture by Miereveldt in the Collection of the Earl of Craven at Coinhe Abbey. 



THE WINTER KING 369 

mounted gentlemen and the large escort provided by the 
States-General. The cannon boomed royal salutes, the 
populace shouted, and the joy-bells rang. Friedrich King 
of Bohemia was setting forth to claim his own again, the 
Protestant champion was going to join the new Protestant 
hero. The time of tribulation was nigh ended. 

Good news came to the Hague, the King had arrived 
safely at his Majesty of Sweden's winter quarters in 
Frankfurt, and had been received with regal honours. 
Gustavus Adolphus had insisted on his taking precedence 
over all, had styled him " Majesty," and had sharply re- 
primanded a Saxon gentleman who had called him " your 
Highness." Friedrich wrote that there were gay doings 
at Frankfurt in honour of the Queen of Sweden's arrival. 
He told how there had been a masquerade, and that 
Gustavus Adolphus had donned the woollen hose and 
white apron of the innkeeper's son; that her Majesty, 
Queen Eleanor, had dressed as a Swedish peasant woman, 
and that he, Friedrich, had disguised himself in a monk's 
cowl and gown. There had been great hilarity, he said, 
when it had been seen how monklike he looked, he, the 
champion of Protestantism; and King Gustavus had 
laughed and declared that Friedrich had betrayed him- 
self, he was really a Jesuit in disguise and no Calvinist. 
Elizabeth Stuart smiled and sighed when she read this, 
smiled at the unwonted gaiety of the tone of Friedrich's 
letter — sighed because she realised that the debonair 
youth she had married was now a sad-faced man, hollow- 
cheeked, and with deep, sunken eyes, who would in a 
monkish garb fulfil the Protestant's notion of a Jesuit : 
a sombre, haggard, furtive being. But all this would 
change when fortune smiled again, she thought, and 
surely the hour of triumph was not far off now. At the 
news of each victory the Queen's confidence grew. The 
town of Kreuznach had fallen, and the "little man" 
Craven had so distinguished himself by his dash and 
courage at the assault, that the King of Sweden had laid 
a kindly hand on his shoulder and had told him that he 

2 A 



370 THE WINTER QUEEN 

seemed determined to give some younger brother a chance 
of inheriting his wealth. After the conqueror's entry into 
the city, King Friedrich had been enthusiastically acclaimed 
by Hamilton's Scottish troops. The day of triumph was 
dawning. 

A check came to the Queen's elation ; there had been 
a fire at Heidelberg, and much of the castle had been 
destroyed. It was said that the Spanish garrison had 
set fire to it, fearing lest it should fall into the hands 
of the avenging Protestant hosts. 

" We will rebuild it next year, dear my lord — be not 
downcast," she wrote to Friedrich, for none doubted 
Gustavus Adolphus's ultimate victory. He would brook 
no half-hearted allegiance on the part of the Protestant 
Princes, who were now, at last, united for the Cause. 
Even his brother-in-law, the wavering, specious George 
William of Brandenburg, had been forced to declare 
against the Emperor. To effect this, indeed, it had been 
necessary for Gustavus to march to Berlin, but, when the 
dreaded Swedes had appeared before the walls, George 
William had decided to throw in his lot with the Protes- 
tant army. It was whispered now that the Swedish king 
intended to proclaim himself Emperor of the Holy Roman 
Empire ; it was known that Richelieu had offered to 
procure his nomination as King of Rome. The dream 
which lived in the Swedish hero's mind was doubtless to 
found a Northern Empire comprising all the German 
Protestant States and excluding only Austria and Bavaria, 
which would remain under the sway of the ancient 
Southern Empire. He had planned to unite the Houses 
of Vasa and of HohenzoUern by marrying his six-year-old 
daughter Christina to Friedrich Wilhelm of Brandenburg, 
son of the Elector George William ; Pomerania was to fall 
to them by treaty on the death of Duke Boguslav, and 
Denmark should be annexed by a future war. All the 
princes of Germany should swear fealty to Sweden, and 
the free towns and lay bishoprics should also be under 
the protection of this mighty new power. There should 
be an Imperial Diet at Stockholm to which each prin- 



THE WINTER KING 371 

cipality should send delegates. It was, in fact, the dream 
of empire which, in part, has become reality under the 
descendants of that very Friedrich Wilhelm of Branden- 
burg, though it has come about without Sweden's par- 
ticipation therein. Soaring plans, indeed, and surely 
calculated to awaken the alarm of France. 

The Emperor's cause seemed to be in an evil plight ; 
the Spanish troops were needed for the relief of Maastricht 
in Holland, closely besieged by Frederik Hendrik of 
Orange, and Gustavus Adolphus held nearly the whole 
Rhine Province and threatened the Bavarian frontier. 
In March 1632 he entered Niirnberg and was greeted 
by the populace as the new Joshua. Then he swept on to 
Donauworth. Here, too, he was welcomed with rapture. 
Maximilian of Bavaria trembled for the safety of Munich, 
but placed his confidence in his army under Tilly which 
protected the Bavarian frontier beyond Donauworth. On 
April 15th Gustavus shattered Tilly's army at Rain, on 
the river Lech, and the venerable commander Tilly was so 
sorely wounded that he died a few days later at Ingold- 
stadt. The Swedish army now took the town of Augsburg, 
and early in May the victors marched into Munich. 

Friedrich of Bohemia had never left King Gustavus's 
side during this wonderful campaign ; and although there 
had been protracted discussions between the two monarchs 
as to the future, and sometimes the Swede's evident 
determination to exact a fair price for his assistance 
had disappointed Friedrich, still a warm affection and 
confidence had sprung up between them. Yet deep dis- 
couragement peeped through the conscientiously hopeful 
tone of Friedrich's letters to Elizabeth. From the 
Niirnberg camp he had written that he would never 
have believed Gustavus could have treated him " so 
ungenerously," for the settlement of the Palatine affairs 
seemed as far off as ever despite the Swede's many victories. 
He longed for peace, for the ending of all this fruitless 
endeavour. " Pliit a Dieu ! " he wrote, " qu' eussions un 
petit coin au monde pour y vivre contents ensemble ! 
C'est tout le bonheur que je me souhaite." 



372 THE WINTER QUEEN 

Nevertheless, as he and Gustavus wandered together 
through the Bavarian's magnificent palace, Friedrich felt 
that the Swedish king had already in a measure avenged 
his bitter wrongs. 

There were many Bohemian cannon left at Munich, 
which Maximilian had captured at the battle of the White 
Mountain, but the Bavarian jewels were hidden safely 
away, and with them that jewelled ribbon of the Garter 
which Friedrich would so gladly have reclaimed. " My 
good cousin Ferdinand hath taken away his best goods," 
he wrote to Elizabeth ; " there are many handsome things 
left, but mighty difficult to remove." And then, with a 
touch of his usual querulousness, he added : " But even 
were it not so I should have none of them." For Gustavus 
Adolphus had forbidden the plundering of the conquered 
cities, and a certain bitterness was growing up in Friedrich's 
heart against the Swedish King. Friedrich could not learn 
the simple rule of human life, this — that no one does 
anything without payment ; and he raged weakly that 
Gustavus gave help, gave vengeance, gave the hope of 
restitution, but that he openly avowed that he would 
exact payment herefore, that when the Palatinate fell 
to Friedrich, Sweden would expect to hold a couple of 
Palatine towns, certain promises of money and future 
alliance, and freedom of worship for the Lutherans in the 
Palatinate, as her legitimate share of the spoil. 

In Munich the weary soldiery was permitted a few 
days' repose, and even the impetuous Gustavus was not 
loth to rest there awhile, although he was loud in his 
condemnation of the climate and his disapproval of the 
scenery round the town. He said that Munich was " a 
golden saddle upon a sorry nag." It is possible that the 
lustre of patriotism had dazzled his eyes when he had 
gazed on Sweden, otherwise this saying, coming from the 
lips of one who had enjoyed the Swedish climate, is in- 
comprehensible. However, Gustavus's sojourn in Munich 
was but short, for the Emperor, aghast at the Swede's 
success, had summoned Wallenstein to his aid. Also the 
Imperialists had gained some advantage in Swabia, and 



THE WINTER KING 373 

Gustavus quickly evacuated Munich, and marched to the 
aid of the Wirtemberg Protestants. 

Wallenstein, meanwhile, had driven the Saxons out of 
Prague, and had advanced to the neighbourhood of 
Niirnberg. Gustavus, knowing his army to be too small 
to risk an attack upon Wallenstein while Maximilian of 
Bavaria with his troops threatened him from the west- 
ward, withdrew into Nurnberg, and for two months the 
opponents faced each other but remained inactive. At 
length Gustavus was forced to make an effort to get his 
troops away from the Niirnberg neighbourhood, which 
by now was swept bare of provisions ; and on Septem- 
ber 23rd he attacked Wallenstein, but was repulsed and 
again fell back on Nurnberg. 

He now decided to leave a garrison in the town, and to 
run the gauntlet along the enemy's lines in order to gain 
a freer field of action. Wallenstein allowed the whole 
army to march away unmolested, although the Swedish 
soldiers constantly fired into his camp. Shortly after- 
wards Wallenstein marched to Leipzig, which he seized 
and refortified as a punishment to John George of Saxony 
for having joined Gustavus. Wallenstein was reinforced 
by Pappenheim who, foiled in his attempt to relieve Maest- 
richt, still besieged by Frederik Hendrik of Orange, had 
successfully invested Hildesheim and was now free to join 
the main army. 

Friedrich of Bohemia had left Gustavus when the 
Niirnberg camp was raised. Sick at heart and despon- 
dent he had withdrawn to Mainz. It had seemed to him 
that there was but little use in following the fortunes of 
Gustavus farther. He had served faithfully during the 
arduous campaign ; he was ailing and needed rest, so he 
averred. In reality a sudden nostalgia had come to him, 
a longing to be in or near the Palatinate. God knows, it 
was a melancholy pilgrimage that he made ! The once 
smiling country, rich in waving wheatfields and grandly 
wooded slopes, the happy, prosperous villages, the stately 
castles and goodly dwelling - places were now charred, 
downtrodden waste lands and blackened ruins. The 



374 THE WINTER QUEEN 

peasants had either fled or slunk about their ravaged 
homesteads, miserable and terror-stricken. The King 
wrote to Elizabeth that he had gone hunting with har- 
riers, and that he had longed " avidement " for her to be 
by his side. She read between the lines how heart-sore he 
was, how the sight of the havoc wrought in his homeland 
had given the death-wound to his already broken spirit. 
Piteously he assumed a hopefulness she knew he did not 
feel. " Yet all this would be easy to restore," he wrote ; 
but Craven had written that it would take the lifetime of 
two generations to re-establish the famed opulence of the 
Palatinate, and she believed the unostentatious, practical 
knowledge of the " little man " more than poor Friedrich's 
feeble optimism. 

They were weary days in the Hague. Sophie of 
Nassau was in great grief for the loss of her husband, 
Ernest Casimir of Nassau, who had fallen at the storm- 
ing of Roermund. Amalia of Orange, too, was in a state 
of depressed anxiety for her Frederik Hendrik, who was 
still besieging Maestricht. Her Highness's depression was 
duly communicated to her decorous Court, and it was the 
mode for all to go about with faces of woe, and to speak 
in that hushed tone which is supposed to befit o'erdarkened 
days. The Queen, of course, would have none of this ; 
she rode out, she busied herself with books and letters, 
she spoke in her accustomed sonorous tones. Anxiety 
was hard to bear, as she said, but wry faces and whining 
voices had never charmed fortune back, or averted sorrow. 

Towards the middle of November the news came of the 
battle of Liitzen, the most disastrous victory that an army 
has ever won : Gustavus Adolphus had fallen. It was 
whispered that the Swedish hero had been treacherously 
done to death by Duke Franz Albert of Lauenburg, always 
suspected of double-dealing and envy of Gustavus. He 
had ridden at the King's side in the melee, and the fact 
that Gustavus was shot through the back induced many 
to believe, though no proof has ever been adduced to 
support, this dark story. 

Elizabeth Stuart had once more to face the shattering^ 



THE WINTER KING 375 

of lier hopes, for although there had been disagreements 
concerning the terms of the Palatinate's restitution, she 
knew that ultimately the valiant Swede would have given 
Friedrich back his rightful heritage. Death had again 
fought against her. 

The joy-bells rang in the Hague, the cannon thundered 
salutes, flags flew from every house, and the streets were 
full of enthusiastic revellers. Maastricht had fallen some 
time back, and Frederik Hendrik of Orange and his troops 
were returning in triumph to the Hague. Am alia of 
Orange welcomed her excellent, substantial hero, and there 
were splendid rejoicings at the Binnenhof ; men shouted 
his name in the streets, and the pealing bells proclaimed 
the glorious return of yet another great warrior of the 
House of Orange. 

In the house on the Lange Voorhout Elizabeth Stuart 
listened dully to this tintamarre of rejoicing. She neither 
spoke nor wept, only from time to time she unfolded the 
paper whereon were written the tidings of the death of 
Friedrich, King of Bohemia. It was a short enough 
missive, penned by Spina, the doctor who had tended 
King Friedrich, and addressed to Mijnheer Rumf, physi- 
cian to the Queen of Bohemia. In terse phrases it set 
forth how the King had been ailing for some time, but 
that he had insisted upon riding forth to visit his cousin, 
the Duke of Zweibriicken. On his return to Mainz he 
had fallen grievously sick, and the doctor, fearful lest he 
had taken the plague which was raging in the neighbour- 
hood, had examined him and found three plague spots on 
his body. After a few days the violent symptoms had 
abated, however, and Spina had believed his Majesty to 
be on the road to recovery. Then had come the news 
of the battle of Liitzen, and of the loss of Gustavus 
Adolphus. " His Majesty, lying sick in bed, turned his 
face to the wall, and moaned out that now his last hope 
was taken from him," wrote Spina. A few hours after 
delirium had set in, and on November 19 th he had 
breathed his last in the hostelry at Mainz. There was a 



376 THE WINTER QUEEN 

rumour that lie had been poisoned, but Spina averred 
that he had died of plague and a sheer surrender of his 
energy to live. 

Elizabeth Stuart tortured herself with the thought that 
if she had been with the King he would not have died. 
Had he not said that his very life depended on her 
strength ? A piteous, unmirthful smile twisted her lips 
for an instant— she realised that, in the midst of her 
grief, she was half wroth with Friedrich for having given 
in to death so easily. The doctor had written that it had 
been as though the King had surrendered his spirit out 
of sheer sorrow for Gustavus Adolphus. Sorrow ! Eliza- 
beth Stuart knew that it had been the sorrow of hopeless, 
helpless discouragement. Poor Friedrich ! poor, feeble 
being, tortured by his own weakness ! 

Her mourning for Friedrich was chiefly an immensity 
of pity, a longing to help the dependent soul of him who 
had loved her, who had lusted for earthly power to his 
undoing indeed — but always for her — to crown her queen, 
to give her greater honours. She grieved more as a 
mother grieves for a lost child than as a woman mourns 
her mate. Her mate ? Christian the Halberstiidter had 
been her mate — he alone ! And now she was free, Fried- 
rich's weak soul no longer lay on her heart as an abiding 
task — a beloved task, but a task for all that — but Chris- 
tian was dead — Christian and Friedrich — and there was 
no meaning left in life for her. 

A touch of horror and of sordidness was added to 
Elizabeth Stuart's grief, for, as in life so in death, Fried- 
rich's strange destiny of unrest continued. At first the 
Protestant army requested that the mortal remains of their 
champion should not be entombed. When victory came 
his coffin should be borne in triumph before the conquer- 
ors ! In vain the Queen wrote that he should be laid to 
rest at Heidelberg in the Heilig-Geist Church beside his 
forbears. His brother Louis was administrator of the 
Palatinate, a title surely given in derision, for who could 
administer a country claimed by a rightful owner, and by 
a new proprietor whose possession was sanctioned and 



THE WINTER KING 377 

upheld by an Emperor, whose technical right of disposal 
was supported by the presence of an armed host in the 
disputed territory itself? 

Count Louis planned to inter King Friedrich with be- 
fitting pomp in Heidelberg; but he hesitated, partly because 
he wished to content the Protestant army, partly because 
of his inability to carry out his plan, for the country was 
overrun with Spaniards and Bavarians. 

With horror the Queen realised that some mischance 
of warfare might place the helpless clay in the enemy's 
power, and she shuddered at the thought of the insults 
to the dead which would ensue. 

At length she heard that they had carried the King to 
Frankenthal, that he lay in peace in his own half-ruined 
castle. But the same despatch told her that the misery- 
maddened populace had greeted the shabby cortege with 
howls of bitter mockery, that the coffin had been borne 
into the castle amid a shower of stones and filth thrown 
by the people who had once poured benedictions on their 
beloved Prince, whom, in death, they greeted with such 
cruel contumely. It was written that the body could not 
remain at Frankenthal for fear of some ghastly outrage ; 
the peasantry, debased by misery, was furiously hostile — 
Frankenthal was insecure. 

At last, at dead of night, secretly, in haste and fear, 
they bore King Friedrich out of the half-ruined palace 
where he had lain ; but the people had heard what was 
to be done. A snarling crowd gathered before the portals, 
and, amid yells and foul imprecations, the rough cart with 
its helpless burthen was driven away into the night. Yet, 
even now, the cruelty of Fate had not done with Friedrich 
of Bohemia. The cart was but a couple of loosely nailed 
boards, and the driver told afterwards how " the restless 
prince could not lie still," for many times the ricketty 
wheels had stuck in the ruts of the ill-tended roads, and 
the coffin had been flung into the mud. 

Some three years after his death the unhappy King- 
was laid to rest. The homeless wanderer could not even 
find the refuge of a grave in that homeland he had learned 



378 THE WINTER QUEEN 

to long for, that homeland whicli he had bartered for a 
shadowy crown. At last he was entombed in Sedan ; but 
men had lost all interest in Friedrich of Bohemia, and it 
was not deemed of suificient importance to chronicle 
where he lay. Who cared, after all, save the sorrowing 
woman far away in Holland, made helpless by distance 
and powerless by poverty ? 

And thus to-day no one can point the finger of scorn, 
or bestow a look of pity on the tomb of Friedrich of the 
Palatinate, the Winter King. 



CHAPTEK XXIII 

D'ESPINAY 

" Mourir pour ma belle 
Tra-la-la." 

rONG years had passed, and still Elizabeth Stuart 
, waited at the Hague for the ever-deferred return 
■^ to Heidelberg. The world had almost forgotten 
that she was only a visitor in Holland, and her Court 
on the Voorhout was universally recognised as a centre 
of culture. It was the fashion for travellers to pause 
a few days at the Hague and to be presented to her 
Majesty. It did not signify that the house on the Lange 
Voorhout had grown very shabby, with tattered viol-brown 
velvet hangings and threadbare chair-covers ; it did not 
matter that her Majesty's debts were so numerous now 
that, as she put it, she was fully accredited to the debtors' 
prison ! The entree to her Court was more sought after 
than an invitation to the Binnenhof, where Amalia Solms 
ruled in solid, comfortable splendour. 

Somehow, albeit Elizabeth Stuart had said adieu to 
youth, she remained the queen of charm, the romantic 
figure it was profoundly interesting to have seen. Tra- 
vellers like Mister John Evelyn, on the grand tour, 
hastened to kiss her Majesty's hand, and he recorded 
the fact in his diary among the accounts of all the re- 
markable things he had seen on his travels. 

Sometimes it seemed to Elizabeth Stuart as though 
her whole strange past had been a dream, some romance 
she had heard. All the actors in that Prague drama 
had vanished from her life. Old Anhalt, after years of 
wandering as a proscribed rebel, had received a free 
pardon from the Emperor, and had retired to his castle 

379 



380 THE WINTER QUEEN 

of Bernburg, where he had lived in entire seclusion until 
his death in 1630. Christel, too, at last set free from 
his prison in Vienna upon parole never more to fight 
against the Emperor, had withdrawn to Bernburg, and 
had married a princess of the House of Holstein-Sonder- 
burg. He had passed as utterly out of Elizabeth Stuart's 
life as though he had indeed perished on the battlefield 
of the White Mountain. " Alas ' I am as useless to you 
as a dead man ! " he had once written to her, for each 
year he wrote her a formal letter which, for all its brevity, 
still let her know that she, and she alone, was the romance 
of his life. Yet he never came to Holland, but remained 
faithfully with his Eleanora of Holstein and his mono- 
tonous existence. The Thurns, father and son, were dead. 
My Lady Phyllis Devereux and the other ladies-in-waiting 
had long left her and were married in England. Her High- 
ness Louise Juliane was dead. Elizabeth Stuart lived now 
with a new young world ; she shared her memories with 
no one. Often she spoke of old days with faithful little 
Craven, but he, too, only knew her life since her sojourn 
at the Hague. 

Her Majesty's children were grown men and women 
now ; mighty troublesome, too, they were. The princes, 
turbulent and ardent, were the acknowledged ringleaders 
of the riotous bands of young nobles, Dutch and foreign, 
who were at the Hague. Not Karlutz, indeed ! He had 
grown into a handsome, self-satisfied man, stern to the 
failings of others, with a cold pomposity which some took 
for dignity ; strong, because he was absolutely indifferent 
to the feelings of his companions. " Alas ! alas ! how 
narrow-hearted is Karlutz ! " the Queen cried to the Prin- 
cess Elizabeth. 

" Madame ma mere, my brother takes his task as head 
of the house very seriously," the learned maiden answered ; 
and the Queen sighed, for the years had taught her to sigh 
instead of to rage. She often felt herself to be younger 
than her own children. Certainly the Princess Elizabeth, 
with her wise, sober ways and her austere studies, was all 
unsuited to the Queen's strong, direct nature. Henriette, 



D'ESPINAY 381 

gentle and merry, with her fair face and the flaxen hair 
which she had inherited from her Danish grandmother, 
was more to the Queen's taste ; and Louise Hollandine, 
gay and disorderly, pleased Elizabeth better than her 
more demure sisters. When Monsieur Descartes, lean 
and beetle-browed, came to talk philosophy with Prin- 
cess Elizabeth, the Queen would whisper to Craven : "Ah ! 
look, I pray you, my lord, at Elizabeth settling the world 
by a theory ! Alack ! but her deep thoughts have made 
her nose red, and yet they cannot assuage her sorrow at 
this unwelcome colouring ! " 

But the Queen was interested in Louise HoUandine's 
studies. She loved to wander about the studio, which 
she had given to Louise at Rhenen, while Mijnheer Hont- 
horst painted, and talked of his student years in Rome, or 
explained some technical detail of painting to his pupil. 

Little Princess Sophie, sharp-tongued and impulsive, 
was never a favourite with her mother, and an unspoken 
tragedy was enacted between them ; the child, seeking 
for love and jealous of the Queen's affection, grew bitter- 
hearted, and deemed that Elizabeth Stuart loved her 
monkeys and her dogs better than her children. Yet 
this thought was unexpressed then; only years after- 
wards the bitterness came out when the great Electress 
of Hanover, Queen Designate of England, wrote her 
memoirs ; but that was long after Elizabeth Stuart and 
her world had passed away, and the dead do not rise up 
to refute even the harsh judgments of their own children. 

Despite the ever-present anxiety of poverty the Queen 
of Bohemia's Court was gay enough. Many peaceful days 
were passed at Rhenen, and the Queen almost dreamed 
herself back at Heidelberg, when she gazed on the mighty 
sweep of the Rhine, flowing away through the green fields 
and past the beech-groves. And yet echoes of strife ever 
came to disturb her. England was in the throes of revolt, 
really a most distressing episode for King Charles I., though, 
of course, the whole pother would soon be ended. Prince 
Rupert and Prince Maurice had fought gallantly in the royal 
cause, and Elizabeth Stuart proudly heard of their exploits. 



382 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" Ah I sweet niece ! " slie cried out to Princess Mary, 
William II. of Orange's young wife, Princess Royal of 
England, " would we were men to lend a hand against 
these prick-eared rebels ! I vow I envy our cousin Char- 
lotte de la Tremouille ! What a splendid destiny that gave 
a woman the opportunity to show such courage ! " 

" She was ever a trifle mannish, methinks, ma cousine," 
said Princess Amalia, who was present. 

" She is a woman of spirit, Amalia. Lord love us ! we 
can all learn to brew possets and to stitch a seam, but few 
of us would venture to hold a castle against a horde of 
rascally besiegers ! " the Queen cried. She took a letter 
from a casket filled with papers. 

" Here is a letter from Rupert which tells how, two 
years ago, Charlotte held out for many weeks ; how, at 
lasti my Lord Fairfax went off back to the army, leaving 
the siege of Lathom House to a wretched old attorney, 
who had the house attacked with mortar and cannon ! 
Fairfax was ashamed of fighting against a woman, I'll be 
bound ! Rupert had the honour of coming to my Lady 
of Derby's rescue; at his approach the besiegers slunk 
away." 

Princess Mary's pale cheeks glowed, and her eyes were 
lit with enthusiasm at this story ; but Amalia of Orange 
looked sour and self-righteous. 

" Very fine, no doubt ; but scarcely womanly," she said. 

" Womanly ! " cried the Queen, " the word womanly 
has been invented by men who want a silly fool to hang 
about them and humour their every whim. Womanly ! 
why should it be against a woman's nature to behave like 
a gentleman ? " 

" I do not understand your Majesty," said Amalia in a 
disagreeable voice. 

" I never thought you would, cousin." answered the 
Queen good-humouredly, " but this I tell you, that if 
women can save England, the King is not in so sorry a 
plight after all ! I hear that even Cromwell's womenkind 
are Royalists at heart, and my Lady Fairfax is so openly 
loyal, that my lord is much embarrassed thereby." 



D'ESPINAY 383 

" It is surely unseemly for a female to oppose her 
spouse," said Amalia sharply. " I should never question 
the Stadthouder's wisdom." 

" You get your own way generally, my Lady of Orange, 
for all your wifely submissiveness," the Queen said im- 
patiently. 

" I trust I am never unwomanly," retorted Amalia. 

"No, ma cousine, you are never unwomanly," the 
Queen answered quietly. 

None doubted that the rebellion would be crushed in 
time ; yet Strafford had gone to his death ; Laud, too, had 
been sacrificed, and civil war raged over the length and 
breadth of England. At Marston Moor " God had made 
Prince Eupert's cavalry to fall like stubble " beneath the 
rebels swords, and at Naseby the King's army had been 
entirely vanquished. Montrose had been defeated at 
Philiphaugh, but the King was now safe in the hands of 
his loyal Scotsmen, and surely a few months would see 
the end of this disorder and trouble. That summer of 
1646 Elizabeth Stuart lingered on at the house on the 
Lange Voorhout. She heard the English news more 
promptly in the Hague than at Rhenen, and albeit she 
was so hopeful of the swift settlement of affairs, she was 
anxious and ill at ease. Rupert was in France, " dis- 
graced for the one prudent act of his life ! " as the Queen 
said, referring to his surrender of Bristol to the Parlia- 
mentarians. Edward was in Paris, caressed and approved 
by the whole French Court since his abjuration of Pro- 
testantism and his marriage with Anne de Gonzaga. 
Maurice, too, was wandering about somewhere in France. 

Heavy thunder weather brooded over the Hague, even 
the freshening sea-breeze after set of sun only gave 
respite. All day the Queen remained in the panelled 
parlour, with the ragged brown-velvet hangings drawn 
across the windows to shut out the heat. It was in- 
tolerably dull at the Hague. The Binnenhof Court had 
removed to Honsholredijk, the Stadthouder's newly built 
country palace. Frederik Hendrik, always a martyr to 



384 THE WINTER QUEEN 

gout, had suddenly failed in health, and prematurely old, 
he had entirely resigned his will to the outwardly sub- 
missive ordering of Amalia Solms. 

In the small parlour, where years ago Dohna had 
ministered to King Friedrich that stormy midnight after 
the accident on the Zuydersee, Louise Hollandine had set 
up her easel, and was busy drawing a chalk study of 
Princess Sophie. Louise's gown was crumpled and untidy 
as usual, and her lace collar was torn. Her brown hair 
was ruffled, and a smudge of charcoal blackened her 
cheek. Sophie watched her lazily, she noted each detail 
of her sister's untidy appearance, noted too, the dinginess 
of the chairs and table-covers in the small parlour. The 
door stood open, and they could hear the sound of 
Princess Henriette singing softly to herself as she sat 
before her embroidery frame, in the embrasure of one of 
the passage windows overlooking the courtyard. There 
was a heavy stillness in the air. 

" What can we do to-day ? It is too hot to live ! " said 
Sophie ; " and oh ! Louise, your whole face is black ! " 

" Turn your head more to the left, mon enfant, and 
don't gabble," Louise Hollandine said abstractedly. 

" Is that hateful d'Espinay coming here to-day as 
usual ? " the girl asked crossly. 

" Monsieur d'Espinay must come each day to speak 
about the horses, why else is he Master of the Horse ? 
I cannot think why Elizabeth and all of you are so harsh 
about him," Louise answered. 

" He is a scurvy knave ! " the girl broke out hotly. 

" Tut, tut, Mistress Pert, such names from a young 
maiden's lips ! " said Louise, laughing. 

" I hate him, and so doth Philip." 

" Philip and you are foolish children ; d'Espinay treats 
you as such ; that is why you honour him with your dis- 
approval," Louise said shrewdly. 

A step-fall came on the stone floor of the corridor, and 
Elizabeth Stuart entered. She had changed but little 
during the years. Her figure had grown ampler, her 
brown hair was streaked with grey, and her face was 



D'ESPINAY 385 

paler than of yore, but the great sombre eyes were as 
brown as ever, and the haunting Stuart smile still played 
about her lips. 

" Alack ! children," she cried, " I vow I am weary of 
your sister Elizabeth ; she has sat motionless these two 
hours reading, bent over her books. Where is Philip ? " 

" He has gone a-riding in the Bosch with the Prince of 
Portugal and Monsieur de Pellnitz," said Sophie. 

The Queen's face darkened. Young Emanuel of 
Portugal was the son of that illegitimate Prince of the 
House of Braganza who had married a penniless and ill- 
favoured Princess of Nassau, and after an absurd attempt 
to claim the Portuguese throne, had settled in the Nether- 
lands. The younger Emanuel did not share in his father's 
political ambitions ; it was enough for him that kinship 
gave him the entree to the Binnenhof. He spent his 
time at the Hague, this riotous, dissolute youth who had 
sustained a leading part in every broil of the last six 
years. He and Prince Maurice had been among the 
young bloods who, some five years since, had held up the 
Portuguese minister's coach as this fussy, ceremonious 
diplomat had driven one night down the Voorhout — a 
foolish prank, only meant to annoy the minister ; but 
swords had been drawn and angry words had passed, and 
shortly afterwards a Portuguese gentleman had challenged 
Maurice ; a duel had been fought, and, the Portuguese 
having been run through the heart, Maurice had been 
obliged to leave the Hague. The Queen had never for- 
given Emanuel for, as she believed, encouraging Maurice 
in his wild ways. And now young Prince Philip and he 
were boon companions ! As for Pellnitz, he was an over- 
grown schoolboy, bragging, self-assertive, with a round, 
silly, pug-dog's face, " not a bad boy, but unfortunately a 
consummate ass," as the Queen put it. 

She sat down on one of the dingy chairs in the little 
parlour, and calling her spaniel, a descendant of " Brady 
dog's," she stroked his head gently and lovingly, as though 
she found comfort in the touch of his silky hair. 

" I cannot think why Monsieur d'Espinay has not been 

2 B 



386 THE WINTER QUEEN 

here to-day. I had somewhat to say to him about the 
chesnut mare," she began. 

" Perhaps my sister's amiable manners have kept 
him away ! " interrupted Louise HoUandine. " Our wise 
Sophie here has just been talking of him in so gentle a 
way that I was quite touched ! " 

" Silly child," the Queen said sharply to Sophie, " what 
can you know of D'Espinay ? " 

" Princess Smutty Face there loves him ! " retorted 
Sophie pertly, pointing at Louise Hollandine. 

" I would have you know that we do not talk of such 
things, Sophie," answered the Queen ; " think what you 
like, do what you must, but try neither to behave nor to 
speak like a kitchen-wench." 

" Monsieur d'Espinay ought to be punished for his rude- 
ness to me ; I am a grown maiden now, madame ma mfere, 
and — " Sophie began impetuously. 

" Ah ! Sophie, be not so anxious to run away from your 
childhood," the Queen said a little sadly. " Nay," she 
added, as she saw the angry tears well up in the girl's eyes, 
" keep your tears until you are wedded ; you will have 
need of them then." 

Louise Hollandine came and sat on the arm of the 
Queen's chair. " Little mother, tell me if this drawing 
is good ? Oh ! Sophie, stop yammering, or your nose will 
be as red as sister Elizabeth's ! " 

" You all talk too much of Elizabeth's red nose ; she 
is a handsome woman, and really learned, Rupert says," 
the Queen remarked. Sophie turned away, and lifting a 
corner of the shabby window curtain, peered out into the 
sunlight. 

The sound of spurs clanking and a swift, light tread 
came from the vestibule, and after a moment a lackey 
appeared at the door announcing that Monsieur d'Espinay 
awaited her Majesty in the parlour. A flush rose to Louise 
HoUandine's cheek, and she hastily smoothed out her 
crumpled lace collar. The Queen rose. 

" I advise you to take the charcoal off your face, ma 
fiUe, if you are going to see Monsieur d'Espinay. French- 



D'ESPINAY 387 

men are particular about a woman's appearance," she said 
with one of her whimsical smiles, which robbed her shrewd 
sayings of any hint of harshness. 

" I have no wish to see Monsieur d'Espinay, ma mere ; 
he comes to see your Majesty, not me ! " Louise answered 
crossly. 

" Foolish child ! " the Queen said, laying her strong 
white hand on her daughter's shoulder ; " and yet, ah ! 
why should you not be foolish while you are young ? Life 
teaches grey wisdom soon enough ! " She sighed as she 
left the small parlour. She knew that Louise Hollandine 
had a fancy for D'Espinay, a fancy which gave interest to 
the dull, dull days at the Hague. It was a mere caprice, 
of no importance ; Louise HoUandine's was no deep nature 
which would lead her to the gates of passion and despair ; 
she would have a hundred light fancies. 

" ' The Princess sighed for the bold cavalier, but he 
would have none of her,' " recited Sophie in mock poetic 
tones. 

" You are an odious child ! " Louise broke out angrily. 
" Our mother is right when she says you speak like a 
kitchen-wench." 

" Well, Philip says that all the town prates of you and 
D'Espinay, my noble sister. And they say more — they say 
mother likes him overmuch, and that Craven is a sad 
man. They say that our mother may never have put off 
widow's weeds for our father, but that she gives favours 
to D'Espinay which are unseemly ; they say " — Sophie 
poured out her silly gossip with all the gusto of a young 
maiden who does not understand the hideous import of 
her words. Louise Hollandine turned on Sophie angrily. 

" Do you know what you are saying, you forward little 
hussy ? How dare you speak of the Queen thus ? I 
shall tell our mother all you have said ! " she cried. 

" You may go tell her what you will, and I'll tell her, 
too, that you make the sign of the cross on your breast 
before you pray each night ! I'll tell her that you are turn- 
ing Popish, Louise ; you know what she felt when Edward 
became an idolater ! " the girl answered shrewishly. 



388 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" You would turn spy, would you ? " Louise answered 
haughtily, but she had grown pale. 

" The two Princesses Palatine, Louise the Informer and 
Sophie the Spy ! " Sophie cried mockingly. 

" What a noise, why must you talk so loud ? " came a 
calm voice, and Princess Elizabeth entered the parlour, a 
book in her hand. 

" Some talk, some read, for their amusement," retorted 
Sophie, ready as usual with a pert answer. 

Louise took the book from her sister's hand, " ' Maria 
Stuart,' by Joost van der Yondel," she read out, " I marvel 
that your erudite Highness condescends to read such light 
literature ! What would Monsieur Descartes say ? " 

" Great literature is never light, but light literature is 
sometimes great," said Elizabeth pedantically, " and this 
fine tragedy touches our family history too nearly to be 
neglected." 

Louise Hollandine turned over the pages mechanically. 
Dutch wearied her. In vain Mijnheer Huijghens, their 
friend and neighbour, recommended the graceful poems 
of Tesselschade, or waxed eloquent over the beauty of 
Barlaeus' passionate love songs, addressed to the poetess 
Tesselschade herself. Louise Hollandine said Dutch was 
a nonsense language, only fit to talk in, but if you wished 
to read, then pray read French, if you had not got 
an English book. Indeed, she scarcely ever read, she 
painted, and prattled, and laughed with gallants. She 
had grown a little reckless, too, of late. It had been gall 
to her seeing her cousin and erstwhile admirer, Friedrich 
Wilhelm of Brandenburg, affianced to Louise of Orange, 
Heaven knows, he was no pretty boy, this future Great 
Elector ; but he was strong-willed, strong-brained, gifted 
with the power of engraving his personality upon the lives 
of all who knew him, and it would have been a brilliant 
match for the penniless Palatine Princess. But his father, 
George William, getting wind of the youth's infatuation, 
had recalled him to Berlin, and but a few years later 
had arrangfed a marriage between him and the well-dowered 
Louise of Orange. George William had ever played an 



D'ESPINAY 389 

ugly role in the life of Elizabeth Stuart, and almost 
his last act had been to wreck her daughter's prospects. 

Louise HoUandine stood turning over the leaves of 
Vondel's " Maria Stuart," while she listened to a clear, 
rather aggressive voice speaking with the Queen in the 
oaken parlour. Princess Elizabeth, meanwhile, had fallen 
into a reverie, and stood beside the easel absently crumb- 
ling a bit of charcoal between her fingers. Sophie, sitting 
near the window, still held the fold of the shabby velvet 
curtain which she had pulled aside to observe the hated 
D'Espinay's arrival. A shaft of sunshine fell through this 
opening, and lit Sophie's mass of curling, auburn hair 
to an aureole. Her inquisitive, round brown eyes now 
scrutinised Louise HoUandine, and her full lips were 
drawn into a sneering line. 

A lackey came to the door. " Her Majesty bade me 
tell your Highnesses that the refection is served in the 
oaken parlour," he said. 

" ' Now we will arise and seek refreshment of fruits 
and cool sherbets, even though we eat with the stranger, 
the Philistine ! ' " Sophie chanted mockingly, " ' and the 
Princess will hearken to his words, and sigh out her love 
at his feet ! ' " 

Louise HoUandine shot her an angry glance, but 
Princess Elizabeth laughed. " Come, sisters," she said, 
" Monsieur d'Espinay cannot frighten us away from our 
usual refection ! Sophie, be quiet, you tormenting little 
monster, and do not enrage Louise," she whispered, as 
they all three passed out of the room. 

In the oaken parlour a polished table was set, where, 
on silver dishes — the few that had not long since gone 
to the pawnbroker — heaps of peaches and raspberries 
were piled. A tall caraffe of sherbet, another of pale 
white wine, and a little flagon of Hippocras were set 
beside a silver dish, laden with those little tourtes a la 
combalet for which the late Queen, Marie de MMicis, had 
given the recipe to Elizabeth Stuart when she had passed 
through Holland some eight years since. 

Elizabeth Stuart was seated near the table, a silver 



390 THE WINTER QUEEN 

goblet of sherbet at her elbow. She was laughing as 
the young princesses entered. Monsieur le Comte de 
I'Espinay, so much disliked by Princess Sophie, sat on a 
low tabouret near her Majesty. He was a slim, graceful 
man of thirty-five, dark-haired and olive-skinned, with 
bold, laughing brown eyes, and a slight, upturned mous- 
tache. He was elaborately dressed in the latest mode : 
a light blue satin doublet, slashed from the elbow nearly 
to the shoulder to show the delicate linen under-sleeve ; 
lace cuffs, from the wrist to a little below middle-arm ; 
a falling lace collar, jewelled buttons fastening his tunic, 
his slender legs encased in loose satin breeches, and his 
boots ! — Sophie cast a scornful look at them ; if ever a 
mode was devised to impede movement it was this new- 
fangled footgear of soft leather boots, square-toed, high- 
heeled, with the tops wrinkled down to just above the 
ankle, the inside of the tops broadened out to hold an 
amplitude of lace frills, and over the instep a wide, 
ornamented leather flap, which stuck out several inches 
on each side beyond the foot. On a chair near by was 
d'Espinay's felt hat, with the little ribbons falling from 
the rosette beneath the feather ; it was of the latest 
design, of course, with a tiny brim and a very high 
crown. Across the chair lay an elegant cane with an 
elaborate gold head, ornamented with a bunch of blue 
ribbons. Monsieur le Comte's voluminous blue satin 
cloak was hung over the back of the chair ; for, as Sophie 
guessed, D'Espinay had not discarded it till the Queen 
had been granted the boon of seeing the Frenchman 
in his complete new costume. His whole aspect was 
immaculately careless, a carefully arranged negligence. 

He rose as the Princesses entered and made three 
deep bows, the last, which was to Sophie, being so 
profound as to seem a mockery. 

" Que les fleurs de I'^te sent douces ! " he said with 
light impertinence, " to the wanderer in the dusty desert 
of life, what an oasis of coolness and beauty I have found ! " 

" You have noticed the coolness then, monsieur ? " said 
Sophie sharply. 



D'ESPINAY 391 

" Your coolness, Princess ! " he replied to Sophie ; 
" your beauty, Altesses ! " he added, bowing to the other 
Princesses. 

Elizabeth Stuart laughed. " Poor little Sophie is 
troubled with ill- temper to-day, D'Espinay. Give her 
a combalei lemon cake, and then come and talk to me." 

Sophie, with tears of mortification in her eyes, sub- 
sided into sullen silence, while the other ladies gathered 
round the table. Louise HoUandine gave the French- 
man a little goblet filled with Hippocras. " You always 
like this sweet syrup poison best," she said. 

" When you give it to me," he whispered. Louise 
looked at her mother quickly, half-hoping, half-fearing 
that she had heard the whispered words. The Queen 
was feeding her spaniel with crumbs of the combalet 
cake, and paid no heed ; but Louise's face fell when she 
saw the expression of D'Espinay s eyes as he watched the 
Queen. 

" What news out of France, D'Espinay ? " the Queen 
asked. 

" Ce singe Mazarin ! they only write of him in my 
letters ; he is for ever with the Queen they say, and 
his niece is the little King's playmate. Truly an Italian 
plague ! " he answered. D'Espinay always affected an 
intimate knowledge of the doings at the French Court, 
though in reality he knew but little thereof. He had 
played a foolish part enough in France before he came 
to Holland. Monsieur, brother of Louis XIII. and father 
of la grande Mademoiselle, had a court of love hidden 
away at one of his castles near Tours. Here a certain 
Louise de la Marbili^re ruled, as queen of Gaston 
d'Orleans' heart, and many gallants from Paris came 
hither to enliven the Marbiliere. Now d'Espinay in- 
sinuated himself, if not into the lady's affections, at least 
into her confidence. He was essentially a man women 
liked to see and talk with ; he was diverting, and under- 
stood how to discuss women's clothes. He could dance 
" like an angel," the Marbiliere declared, though it 
seems unlikely that she was sufficiently acquainted with 



392 THE WINTER QUEEN 

the terpsichorean prowess of the seraphim to have been 
competent thus to appraise D'Espinay's performance. 
D'Espinay could talk of sentimental depths which ladies 
believed to be philosophical thought ; D'Espinay was 
deliciously indiscreet under the seal of secrecy ; D'Espinay, 
in fact, was a man whom older women liked, a man 
with whom very young girls believed themselves to be 
enamoured. Gaston d'Orleans, however, had found his 
whispering with the Marbiliere to be too familiar, and a 
lettre-de-cachet for " le petit D'Espinay " had directed his 
unwilling, high-heeled feet to the unperfumed, painfully 
inelegant Bastille. Here he had remained for a few 
months, and then a very well arranged amourette with a 
turnkey's daughter had enabled him to escape. Eeally 
it was by this time of no importance to Gaston d'Orleans, 
or any one else, whether he escaped or not ; but D'Espinay 
arrived at the Hague with a fine story of his hair- 
breadth escape, and of the consternation with which it 
had filled his gaolers. The rest of the history, concern- 
ing the Marbiliere and the turnkey's daughter, he told 
in confidence to several Dutch gentlemen, instead of 
publishing it in the Gazette de France, and in a few days 
the Hague knew all he had said — with several picturesque 
Rabelesian details added. In Paris D'Espinay would have 
been one of a crowd of petits messieurs ; in the Hague 
he was a personage of note. For his part he thought 
the Hague provincial — or said in confidence that he did 
— which impressed and angered the Haguers. Each 
Hague lady consoled him, and incidentally told him how 
she could really find no lace collars, no shoe roses, no 
modish hats or gowns in Holland. Alack ! she had to wait 
to purchase such things from the itinerant French mer- 
chants ! He affected to believe that these ladies really 
could not wear a Dutch-made garment; it seemed he 
had never seen the Amsterdam furriers, mantle-makers, 
seamstresses entering the portals of the ladies' mansions ; 
which was curious, as his eyes, so languishingly indiscreet 
in their habitual wanderings, were not prone to fail him. 
And D'Espinay told each delighted Dutch mevrouw how 



D'ESPINAY 393 

much more elegant she was than the Duchesse de Longue- 
ville ; and as for Madame de Chevreuse, she could not 
even vie with mevrouw ! " Ninon de I'Enclos, how is 
she ? " they would query. " Ah ! I never cared for 
prostitutes, mevrouw ! I find the ladies of the Court 
sufficient ! " he would answer ; and the good dames 
preened themselves at this, not hearing the insolence 
under the flattery. 

But amid all his vapid egoism one deeper feeling had 
sprung up, and that was a blind worship for the Queen of 
Bohemia, despite her fifty years. She treated him with 
easy kindness. If he paid her one of his too outspoken 
compliments she answered him with a shrewd, humorous 
jest ; she often told him bluntly that he was a fool for his 
pains ; yet she suffered him to be much in her company 
for the simple reason that he amused her, and seeing 
through his gay, insolent, ceremonious manners, she had 
found him a kind-hearted fellow enough. One day, 
chancing to ask him of his youth in France, she had 
seen the tears spring to his eyes when he had spoken of 
his mother. 

" Ah, madame, it is terrible that I cannot go to pray 
on her grave," he said ; adding : " Ne vous moquez pas de 
moi, madame." 

Elizabeth Stuart had understood that this foppish, 
effeminate braggart had a real Frenchman's devotion 
to his mother, that devotion which is so often an effemi- 
nate man's one strong feeling. 

" Poor D'Espinay ! " she had said gently, and had laid 
her hand on his shoulder, " pray God for your mother. 
He will hear you even if you cannot kneel at her grave." 
(Merciful heavens ! if the Puritans could have heard 
" God's own handmaiden " recommending prayers for the 
dead ! ) From that day D'Espinay had vowed her an 
ardent service which had given the Haguers that manna 
of the mind which they loved so — food for scandal. 

Louise Hollandine had a fancy for D'Espinay, and he 
amused himself with a light intrigue with her, just a few 
whispered words, sometimes a billet-doux ; his touch 



394 THE WINTER QUEEN 

lingered a little on lier hand when they danced the pavyn 
or he taught her the figures of the gavotte, that new dance 
which was beginning to be the mode at the Court of 
France. She was young and attractive : she liked him — 
and she resembled Elizabeth Stuart. 

That June day as the Queen and her daughters sat 
there in the oaken parlour, it seemed to D'Espinay that 
Destiny had been good to him after all ; the Hague was 
dull — " Ah ! k mourir jeune," as he said — but all things 
were bearable, if it was possible to see Elizabeth Stuart 
each day, as he did now, for since her English Master of 
the Horse, Howard, had killed a gentleman in a duel and 
had been forced to fly the country, D'Espinay had been 
named Master of the Horse to the Queen of Bohemia. 

" Yes," he continued, " I hear there are fine stories in 
Paris about the Queen and Mazarin. Ah, bonjour, 
Altesse ! bonjour, my Lord of Craven ! " he added, as 
Prince Philip and Craven entered the parlour. 

Craven spoke to D'Espinay in his friendly, quiet way, 
but Philip ignored his greeting. The boy's face was 
flushed, and on his brow the brown hair lay in damp 
curls ; a tall, strong lad, but rather lumpy, with a thick- 
set figure like his grandfather, James I. of England, but 
here the resemblance ended, for Philip had a swarthy face, 
round, dark eyes, and a heavy, lowering look. His grey 
cloth riding-jerkin was dusty and untidy, his turndown 
linen collar was crumpled, and his riding-boots were white 
with dust. The Queen looked at him coldly. She had 
never cared for Philip, and his rough ways and fierce 
temper had often disturbed and alarmed her for his future. 

" Philip, you are covered with dust ; can you not come 
to me in a more seemly fashion ? " she said. 

The boy's face grew scarlet. " I am no fine lady in 
breeches, madame," he said sullenly, casting a sidelong 
look of hatred at D'Espinay. 

"You will do me the favour to brush your clothes 
before you drink your sherbet," the Queen answered, as 
though speaking to a naughty child. " Go now, my son," 
she added quietly, seeing Philip did not move. 



D'ESPINAY 395 

He put out Ms hand to take his tankard of sherbet. 

" Nay ! " the Queen cried laughingly, " not a drop, my 
son, until you are brushed ! " She took the tankard from 
his hand. " Go now ! " she commanded. 

Philip turned on his heel. D'Espinay, who stood in 
his way, moved aside, but Philip purposely pushed against 
him roughly, leaving a deal of dust on the arm of the 
Frenchman's delicate satin doublet. D'Espinay brushed 
it off angrily, but said nothing. 

Now Princess Henriette, entering the parlour, met Philip 
at the door. " Whither away so fast, Phil ? " she said. 

" To make myself fit to associate with overdressed cox- 
combs ! " he answered loudly ; and passed out of the room. 

For a moment silence reigned, and the sisters looked at 
one another in consternation. It was no light thing to 
offend the Queen; she could be stern enough once she 
was roused. 

D'Espinay came to the rescue. " The building at the 
Palace in the Wood goes apace, madame. 'Tis but a few 
months since your Majesty laid the first stone, and already 
the outer walls are nigh finished," he said. The talk 
drifted to other channels. Amalia Solms was, as usual, 
on no very friendly terms with her daughter-in-law, the 
Princess Royal of England, and d'Espinay told the Queen 
how the French Minister, de Thou, who had just been to 
Honsholredijk, had returned with a story of how high 
words had passed between the ladies even in his presence. 

" My poor niece, alas ! she is learning life's harshness 
soon ! But the young ever gain the victory ; they have the 
weapon Time wherewith to conquer the older generation. 
But 'tis cruel of her Highness Amalia to harry the child 
just now when she is so beset with fears for her father. 
Things are not going well in England, alas ! " the Queen 
said. 

They talked on peacefully, Louise Hollandine gazing 
at D'Espinay the while, and the other sisters laughing 
and talking together. 

At length D'Espinay rose to take his leave. 

" Come to-morrow at this hour, monsieur, and tell me 



396 THE WINTER QUEEN 

how de Thou found the Stadtholder. Alas ! I fear his 
Highness will ne'er see another summer," the Queen said 
as he kissed her hand. 

In the cool, lofty vestibule D'Espinay paused a moment 
to arrange the folds of his satin cloak. When he ap- 
proached the house-door he saw Prince Philip standing 
with his back against it D'Espinay scanned him with 
an insolent smile. 

" Has your Highness turned sentinel ? " he asked 
mockingly. 

The boy caught him by the cloak, and half-dragged 
him into the little parlour near the door. 

" I have to speak with you, my Lord Count ' " he said 
as he closed and bolted the door. 

" It is a strange way of asking for an interview, 
monseigneur ! " the Frenchman replied. 

" You will come here no more, monsieur ; do you 
hear ? I know what is said in the town ! They prattle 
of you and of my sister — worse still, of you and of my 
mother ! You will come here no more ! " Philip said 
fiercely. 

" Since when do you give orders in her Majesty's 
house, mon petit Prince ? " said D'Espinay, growing very 
pale. " I shall obey her Majesty's commands and wait 
upon her when she wills it." 

" My brothers are away ; my mother's honour is in my 
care ! You will come here no more ! " the boy cried. 

" Bah ! monseigneur, the heat has turned your head ! " 
said D'Espinay scornfully. 

" I tell you that, if you come here again, I will kill 
you, you sneaking French loon ! " Philip muttered 
between his teeth. 

" Take back your words, or even from your mother's 
son I must ask satisfaction," cried D'Espinay. 

" Even from my mother's son ! What is my mother 
to you ? " Philip said wildly. 

" Your mother is the Queen of my Heart ! " D'Espinay 
answered. 

" You dare tell me that ? What they say is true, then ! 



D'ESPINAY 397 

God ! my mother the mistress of a French renegade ! " 
the Prince said in a hoarse voice. 

D'Espinay started. " How dare you twist my words so ? 
Monseigneur, I demand satisfaction ! In an hour's time, 
near the new House in the Bosch — monseigneur, I shall 
have the honour of defending your mother's good name 
from her own son's foul insinuations ! " He turned away, 
unbolted the door, and passed into the corridor. Craven 
was coming along from the oaken parlour, but neither 
Philip nor D'Espinay saw him. 

" In an hour I will meet you, monseigneur, near the 
House in the Wood ! Or shall I send my seconds to 
you ? " D'Espinay said. 

" We need no seconds to arrange our duel ; sir, are you 
trying to draw back ? " said Philip. 

" In an hour, et a la mort ! " answered the Frenchman 
furiously. 

The following morning a group of young men stood 
beneath the trees on the Vijverberg : Emanuel of Portugal, 
Pellnitz, Ferdinand Brederode, a few beardless, diplomatic 
secretaries, the youthful Constantino Huijghens, son to the 
poet, and several English youths, visitors at the Hague. 
In their midst stood Prince Philip. He was speaking in 
loud, excited tones. 

" Some interfering fool had sent the town-guard ; is that 
what they say ? My Lord of Craven was it ? I'll dare 
swear he'll take the blame to save a pother ! But it was 
D'Espinay himself, I tell you ! " he vociferated. 

" No cavalier could do such a thing, monseigneur ! 
He is of good blood after all," said a young Dutchman. 

" I tell you he had warned the town-guard ! " cried 
Philip. " Emanuel, you thought so, and you, too, Pellnitz ! 
None knew we were to fight. Craven did not know it, 
so how could he have sent the guard ? Only D'Espinay 
and his seconds knew ; they came with him directly, they 
could not have told any one. Why, the town-guard came 
close on D'Espinay's heels " 

" I should kill him like a frightened cur, if he behaves 



398 THE WINTER QUEEN 

like one," cried the youngest of the group, wishful to show 
what a manly fire-eater he was. 

Philip turned to him. " You are right," he said 
slowly. 

At this moment half-a-dozen finely dressed gentlemen 
sauntered down the broad walk of the Vijverberg. In 
their midst was D'Espinay, laughing and talking. Philip 
watched him approach; then feeling the expectant gaze 
of his admiring companions upon him, he drew himself 
up and stepped forward. 

" Monsieur le Comte d'Espinay ! " he said, " the timely 
interruption of our meeting yesterday does not annul my 
interdict. I pray you remember ! " 

D'Espinay laughed. " We will speak of this with her 
Majesty, your mother, this afternoon, mon Prince ! " he 
said lightly, and passed on, leaving Prince Philip with 
lowering brow and twitching lips. 

The group on the Vijverberg dispersed. Philip, 
Emanuel of Portugal, and Pellnitz walked away together. 

That afternoon was heavy and airless, no breeze stirred 
the trees on the Kneuterdijk, and the limes before the 
Queen's house were as still as though they had been 
wooden playthings. Despite the heat, Elizabeth Stuart 
and the Princesses had driven to Scheveningen. 

" I'll sit here no longer, mewed up like an old dame," 
the Queen had cried. 

The whole town seemed deserted — asleep in the sultry 
air. About three of the clock D'Espinay was seen pro- 
ceeding down the narrow Hartogstraat from his dwelling 
in the Papestraat. He was gaily attired, and in the 
summer sunshine he looked like some flower prince out 
of a fairy masque, with his rose-satin cloak, his ivory- 
coloured tunic, and the wrinkled soft boots with the falling 
lace frills. Monsieur le Comte d'Espinay was going to 
bestow his beauteous presence upon the French minister, 
and then later he would visit her Majesty of Bohemia. 
He tripped onward, humming a gay little tune between 
his teeth : — 



D'ESPINAY 399 

" Mourir pour ma belle, 
Tra-la-la ! 
Mieux vant vivre pour elle, 
La ! la ! la ! " 

As he crossed the broad road of the Kneuterdijk he 
glanced at the windows of the Queen's house, which, 
standing at the end of the Voorhout, commanded a full 
view of the Kneuterdijk. All the curtains were drawn 
to shut out the sun, but D'Espinay fancied he saw the 
curtain of the small parlour-window move, as though 
touched by the hand of some one watching. Princess 
Louise HoUandine, perhaps ? D'Espinay paused. Should 
he go in for a few moments and steal a kiss from the 
enamoured maiden ? Her lips were soft and fresh, and 
if you may not pluck the rose, is it not wise to enjoy the 

bud's fragrance ? 

" Mourir pour ma belle, 
Tra-la-la ! " 

No, he must no longer play with the poor little lady's 
heart — it was unworthy of him ; he who loved the Queen 
could not — . He tripped on and entered the cool 
precincts of the French Legation. 

In the Queen's house the curtain over the small parlour- 
window was pushed aside, and Prince Philip's dark face 
appeared in the opening, over his shoulders peeped 
Emanuel of Portugal and Pellnitz. They whispered 
together, and Philip pointed towards the Heulstraatje 
and to the Hartogstraat. Then the curtain was closed 
once more, and the slumberous calm of the Kneuterdijk 
was undisturbed. 

Monsieur d'Espinay was annoyed. Eeally he who spares 
his head must use his legs ! He had forgotten to bring 
the latest number of the Gazette de France, in which there 
was an account of the oration held at Stockholm on 
Oxenstierna's elevation to the rank of Count by that 
wonder of learning. Queen Christina. D'Espinay had 
promised to show the Gazette to the Princess Elizabeth, for 
of course the two prodigies of wisdom were of interest to 



400 THE WINTER QUEEN 

eacli other. D'Espinay, like King James, disapproved of 
learned maidens ; but it was his habit to be eager in his 
service even of erudite ladies. 

" Mourir pour ma belle, 
Tra-la-la," 

he hummed ; how that silly little melody pursued him 
to-day ! He took his plumed hat and beribboned cane 
from the French minister's lackey, and stood, for a 
moment, on the Legation steps, blinking at the haze of 
sunshine which dazzled his eyes after the discreet light 
of Monsieur de Thou's writing-room. Should he send 
the lackey to fetch the Gazette from the Papestraat ? No, 
his blue-satin cloak was lying over his parlour-chair ; the 
fellow might smudge it with his hot hand ; D'Espinay 
would go himself. He flung a silver piece to the 
lackey, and went down the shallow steps conscious of 
his munificence. 

" Mourir pour ma belle, 
Tra-la-la," 

he hummed. He was looking at the lace frills of his 
boot-tops — how he hoped they would not get dusty before 
he arrived at her Majesty's house. Pardieu ! why had 
he forgotten the Gazette .? Busy with his thoughts, he 
directed his elegant steps to the Heulstraatje ; it smelled 
less vile than the Hartogstraat, he reflected. 

" What a pity the town-guard is not here. Monsieur 
le Lache ! " A mocking voice interrupted his reverie. 

D'Espinay started violently. Pellnitz stood before him, 
blocking the entrance to the Heulstraatje. 

" Monsieur, the pleasantry is offensive ! " he answered 
boldly, but drew back when he saw that Pellnitz held 
a bare rapier in his hand. 

" Que diable ! " he cried, and clutched beneath the 
folds of his satin cloak. " Que diable ! " he repeated 
more faintly when he felt that he had no sword at his 
side — -it was not the mode with that style of doublet. 

" The pleasantry is ill-timed, monsieur, let me pass," 
he said waveringly. Pellnitz glanced past D'Espinay; 



D'ESPINAY 401 

Prince Philip and Emanuel of Portugal were running 
down the Kneuterdijk to the Hartogstraat. 

"You will not pass this way, sir," Pellnitz said, and 
pricked the Frenchman's boot-frill with his rapier's point. 

" There are other ways," D'Espinay said with affected 
carelessness. He turned on his heel and went down the 
Kneuterdijk. When he saw that the Hartogstraat was 
empty he breathed freer, though he was haunted by the 
sound of running. He paused ; should he go back to 
the Legation ? Bah ! he would look like a poltroon before 
the lackeys ! He went on up the Hartogstraat. Un- 
molested he reached the Hoogstraat ; here a number of 
burgher's wives and busy people hurried along despite 
the heat. D'Espinay took his lace kerchief from his 
doublet and wiped his face. It was, of course, the heat 
which had brought those drops of sweat to his brow. He 
strolled on a few paces. 

" Tudieu ! " he muttered, for at the entrance to the 
Papestraat stood Pellnitz with drawn sword. " Monsieur, 
this is childish, let me pass ! " he cried. " The pleasantry 
goes too far ; let me pass, I say ! " 

" It is no pleasantry," cried a voice behind him ; 
" cowards are killed like rats ! " 

D'Espinay faced round quickly. " Monseigneur ! " he 
faltered. Philip stood there with Emanuel of Braganza 
beside him ; both youths carried bared rapiers. 

There was a moment's pause. The passers by halted ; 
the women huddled together ; one young maiden screamed. 

" Where is the town-guard ? " called a portly burgher. 
Philip gave a rough laugh. 

" Monsieur d'Espinay knows that best ! " he shouted, 
and pricked the Frenchman in the shoulder with his 
rapier. 

" I am unarmed — monseigneur — I cannot — • " he 
cried shrilly. Philip lunged at him ; but D'Espinay 
avoided the sword's point, and, turning, fled wildly down 
the Hoogstraat. 

" Mourir pour ma belle, 
Tra-la-la." 

2 c 



402 THE WINTER QUEEN 

The light melody still sang in his brain — . On he 
dashed ; a child toddled out of a house-door ; he knocked 
it over and it raised a piercing yell. Once he stumbled 
— " Holy Mary ! help me ! " he gasped. The frill of his 
boot-top was torn, and a long jagged string of lace nearly 
tripped him up. They were close behind him. He ran 
faster, but he heard them gaining on him. Quickly he 
remembered that a little seamstress, who was over-fond 
of him, lived in a common lodging-house in the Hal- 
straatje — the door leading up those public stairs always 
stood ajar — if he could get there — he could shut out his 
pursuers. Madness ! they could not mean to kill him ! 
He half paused and glanced back ; the three young men 
were almost on his heels ; Philip's face was set — it was 
no pleasantry then ? 

" Mourir pour ma belle, 
Tra-la-la." 

He sped on — ah ! the Golden Head Tavern — he might 
find a refuge there ! No, the door was shut. He felt 
as if the blood must rush out of his eyes — he was blinded 
— gasping — spent. He made a rush towards the Hal- 
straatje. What was that ? He sliddered — twisted his 
foot — fell prone over a strong-smelling heap of empty 
oyster-shells which lay before the tavern. Bah ! why must 
they fling out the oyster-shells after a supper ? — it was 
too hot to eat oysters — there must have been a supper 
last night — . " Sainte Vierge — Mere de Dieu ! Ah ! " 

Philip fell upon him. Once — twice — thrice he plunged 
his rapier through the ivory-satin doublet. 

Weakly D'Espinay twisted himself round to face his 
murderer. " Vous avez tort, monseigneur, ^pargnez 
moi ! " he gasped. 

For answer Philip plunged his rapier through his heart, 
drew it out, and plunged it in again mercilessly. 

" Mourir pour ma belle, 
Tra-la " 

The blood gushed out of D'Espinay 's mouth, and he 
lay still. 



CHAPTEH XXIV 

HOME 

" We are the masters of the days that were. 
We have lived, we have loved, we have suffered." 

— W. E. Henley. 

A SHIP rode at anclior on the river Thames beyond 
Gravesend. The fields stretching down to the 
banks were whitened by the daisies and the tall 
cow-parsley, and touched with gold by the buttercups. 
Such a peace lay over the country, such a fragrancy of 
Spring. The birds flitted through the air, twittering 
sharply, and ever and anon came a lazy, ponderous flap- 
ping as a gull, returning from some inland quest, winged 
its way back to the sea. The water lapped against the 
ship's sides indolently, though often the passing of another 
vessel made the anchored ship to rock, and strain rest- 
lessly at the powerful cable which held her quiescent, and 
then for a time the water eddied and swirled as though 
boisterously inviting the ship to follow the stream out to 
the sea once more. 

At the ship's stern there fluttered in the light breeze 
a royal ensign of sky blue with a lion rampant em- 
blazoned, an unknown flag which mightily puzzled the 
mariners on the passing ships. However, the merchant- 
men, seeing that the stranger also flew the colours of the 
Dutch Republic at her masthead, gave the accustomed 
salute of courtesy and passed on, wondering what the sky 
blue ensign could be. 

On the deck stood the tall, black-robed figure of an 
ageing woman ; a woman whose auburn hair was thickly 
streaked with white, and whose face was lined with the 
ineffaceable imprint of the touch of sorrow ; yet despite 

403 



404 THE WINTER QUEEN 

the pathos of the face, the brave set of the firm lips and 
the fearless gaze of the brown eyes told of an undaunted 
spirit. There was, too, an indomitable, if unconscious, 
pride in the poise of the head. Though she waited there, 
a solitary, patient figure, there was something in her whole 
attitude which said : " I, Elizabeth Stuart, cannot be 
brought under fortune, save by owning misfortune. What- 
e'er befalls, I am ready ! No one can humble me, though 
they may insult me." 

Hour after hour she waited there, her great brown eyes 
fixed on the shore. Though no one welcomed her, yet 
she saw England again, England which she had left nearly 
fifty years ago, when youth and fortune smiled ! It had 
been Spring then, too, she remembered, but a spring of 
wild rains, and angry tempests. She had been driven 
back to the coast, and men had said it was of evil augury 
for a bride to be thus flung back to her home, but the 
cannon had boomed salutes as she sailed away, and the 
populace had thundered a grand farewell to the Pearl of 
England. And now it was Spring again, Spring and 
England, and all the world was unchanged, was young, only 
she was old and sad, and an unwelcome guest it seemed. 

At Delftshaven a messenger from King Charles II. had 
met her, and had bidden her relinquish her voyage to 
England ; but she had thrown back her head with her old, 
proud gesture, and had cried out : " My nephew cannot 
forbid me to go home ! " Home ! was England her home 
after all ? She, the wanderer — she, the exile — had she a 
home ? And yet unfailingly she belonged to the land ; 
the long years had robbed her of joy and of splendour, of 
love and of honour, but no one could take from her her 
right to England. She had raged for a moment when 
King Charles' envoy had delivered the ungracious mes- 
sage. How dared he use her thus ? When he had been 
a homeless exile, a penniless King in a foreign land, had 
she not welcomed him as though he had been doubly 
crowned ? Had she not told Amalia of Orange, when this 
lady had asked why she had bent in so deep an obeisance 
before her own kinsman : " He is twice a King, because 



HOME 405 

he is crowned with misfortune ! " To her the brown-faced 
youth of evil Hfe, threadbare in garment, a little thread- 
bare in honour, was no less the heir of that kingship by 
divine right, the very name of which the world deemed 
to have perished with King Charles I. beneath the 
traitor's axe. 

She could never have believed that her nephew could 
have ignored her thus. She had sent a frigate on before 
her with a messenger, to inform his Majesty of her arrival, 
and she had bidden the Dutch captain to anchor her ship. 
She would give King Charles time to prepare a fitting 
reception, and if he did not heed her, at least, she would 
sail up the river at night-time. No one should see her 
land, ungreeted and unhonoured ! 

" It is a good sailing breeze, is it, Mijnheer ? You would 
not waste it ? Why should there not be a breeze to-night, 
when I wish to sail ? We will take our chance, Mijnheer." 
Ah ! Elizabeth Stuart, you are, " as ever of your wild 
humour " to be hopeful, even yet, in spite of the heavy 
years ! 

" Madam, I pray you rest awhile ; there comes no 
messenger from the King ; do not watch longer," said a 
voice near her. 

"It is not altogether for a messenger that I wait. 
Craven," she said ; " but my heart is very full when I look 
on England again. Let me be ; I am an old woman, but 
I have come home at last ! " 

He took her hand, so white against the brown wood of 
the bulwark where it lay. Very gently he raised it to 
his lips. " I knew not that you had thus hungered for 
the homeland, madam," he said. 

" Nay," she answered, " I knew it not myself. I am 
no harbourer of useless thoughts." 

They fell a-talking of other things — of how Princess 
Elizabeth was happy in her Protestant Abbey of Her- 
worden, of Princess Sophie married in Hanover, of Prin- 
cess Louise HoUandine, Abbess of Maubuisson. 

"Craven, I have long ceased raging," the Queen said; 
" but how strange a destiny it is that two of my children 



406 THE WINTER QUEEN 

should have fallen away from their father's faith ! Edward 
and Louise ! and yet I have no bitterness against them 
now, God forgive me ! there is but one whom I could 
never pardon — even now I cannot." 

Craven nodded. " Yet Prince Philip fought bravely 
enough before he fell at Rethel/' he said. 

The Queen turned away, her eyes had grown hard, and 
she gazed at the smiling country joylessly now. She had 
never seen Philip since that day when they had come and 
told her of how he had killed D'Espinay. She had no 
mercy in her heart for one capable of so cowardly a crime. 
When Princess Elizabeth had urged that D'Espinay had 
maddened Philip by his insolent ways, she had answered 
that there was no palliation for so dastardly a crime. 
" If he had crept alone into his house and murdered him, 
'twould have been better," she had said ; " but three armed 
men to kill one unarmed man ! It is a crime against 
honour and courage ! " Steadily she had refused to see 
Philip, refused to hear his name, and when Princess 
Elizabeth had unwisely reopened the subject, praying 
her to pardon Philip, she had turned on her with such 
a passion of anger that the learned maiden, in high dis- 
pleasure, had betaken herself to her aunt in Berlin, and 
had never more darkened the doors of the house on 
the Lange Voorhout. Louise HoUandine had wept for 
D'Espinay for nigh upon a week, and had then forgotten 
him in her clandestine practice of the Catholic faith, in 
her painting, and in fancies for a score of other gallants. 
After some years she had fled from her mother's house 
with such secrecy that the busy tongues at the Hague 
had made her the target for their poisoned whispers. 
The Princess Louise HoUandine had been obliged to dis- 
appear in order to hide her condition, it was said. What 
a pity that the fardingale was no longer the mode ! 
However, this delicate saying was unfounded this time, 
although Louise HoUandine needed the fardingale some 
thirteen times in after years, but perhaps her nun's robe, 
and the seclusion of the Abbey of Maubuisson hid her as 
effectually as a fardingale. 



HOME 407 

Sophie, too, had left her mother very soon. She betook 
herself to Heidelberg, where Karlutz, reinstated since the 
treaty of Westphalia in 1648, held his Court; a pretty 
unpleasant Court too ; for Karlutz spent his time in quar- 
reling with his fierce-tempered wife, Charlotte of Hesse 
Cassel, and in a very prolific love affair with her lady-in- 
waiting, Louise von Degenfeld. 

Henrietta, fair and fragile, had at last married Siegmund 
of Rakoczy, the second son of that George Rakoczy who, 
on the death of Bethlem Gabor, had been elected Prince 
of Transylvania. It had been an arranged marriage, and 
Siegmund had never even seen his bride before she arrived 
in Sarospatak, but he conceived so ardent a devotion for 
her that when, some five months after their marriage, she 
died of fever, he fell sick and within a year followed her 
to the grave. 

Thus the Queen had remained alone at the Hague, 
bitterly poor and deeply in debt. She had endured the 
ignominy of being forced to beseech the rebel English Par- 
liament to grant her her rightful apanage as a princess of 
England. " Necessity hath no law," she had said grimly. 
Penury had caused her to accept a much smaller sum 
than was her due, and even this she had owed to the in- 
fluence of the Puritans, who remembered that she had 
ever been styled " God's own handmaiden ! " Perhaps this 
truckling to traitors and rebels had been the most bitter 
of all the bitternesses that she had known ; but Karlutz 
would not help her, Craven's purse was well-nigh ex- 
hausted ; she had " neither bread, nor flask, nor candle," 
as she wrote to Craven once, when this faithful friend 
had journeyed into England to fight for his rightful for- 
tune, which the Parliamentarians Avere threatening to 
confiscate. Craven being a " malignant and a friend of the 
proscribed family of the deceased traitor to his country, 
Charles Stuart." 

If it had not been for the generous help of her niece 
Mary of Orange, the Queen would have been in the direst 
straits ; as it was, she had but few horses in her stables 
nowadays, the house on the Lange Voorhout was miser- 



408 THE WINTER QUEEN 

ably dingy and threadbare, ber servants were reduced in 
number, and even these few were ill paid — often not paid 
at all. Princess Mary did all she could, but there were 
other claims upon her ; to her brother. King Charles, to 
Prince James, and to little Prince Henry she was obliged 
to send what she could spare. Her mother and her sister 
Henriette were in Paris in such poverty that they often 
had no fire to warm them. 

Elizabeth Stuart was very lonely. Rupert would visit 
her when he could ; but he was a penniless wanderer and 
could give her little help. Maurice, brave and gentle, 
Rupert's shadow, Rupert's faithful follower, had been 
wrecked when sailing for the West Indies. Rumours 
had constantly been circulated that he had not perished 
after all ; he was a slave at Algiers ; he was held prisoner ; 
he had been seen in Portugal. Elizabeth Stuart set her- 
self to wait; he would come back some day, her little 
Maurice, to whom she had given the soldier's name long 
ago at gloomy Ciistrin. 

Karlutz had played an unhandsome role during the 
late years. Never really in sympathy with his mother, 
he had roused her to wrath and scorn by the part he had 
played in England during the rebellion, for he had sided 
with the Parliament, had even been suspected of a plot 
to dethrone his unhappy uncle, Charles I., and, as the 
Roundheads' candidate, to reign as " Puritan King of free 
England." During the twelve years of the Commonwealth 
he had given nothing to aid his unfortunate cousins, and 
had grudged each thaler he had been forced to send his 
mother. Harsh words had been written on both sides. 
Elizabeth Stuart had drained the dregs of life's bitter- 
ness ; she had learned to be ashamed of those she loved. 

If it had not been for Craven she would have been 
utterly lonely ; but " the little man " came to the Hague 
constantly, and his quiet, unselfish devotion was her one 
refuge. Sometimes his gentle homage reminded her of 
Christel's in the fair days at Heidelberg — long ago — 
long ago ! Christel was dead now. In truth he went out 
of her life before the battle of the White Mountain, yet 



HOME 409 

she had grieved again when she heard he had passed away 
peacefully at Bernburg ; it had seemed to her that with 
his death her own past died. 

Much, too, had changed at the Hague. After Frederik 
Hendrik's death the Princess Amalia had continued to 
reside at the Binnenhof, comfortable, commonplace, dull. 
Even the short drama of her son, William II. 's life had 
not seemed to disturb her. Elizabeth Stuart had sympa- 
thised warmly with the impetuous youth's ambition, 
albeit she could not openly side with him, being as she 
was under great obligations for the benefits bestowed upon 
her and hers by the States-General during thirty-five 
years ; yet she had understood his haughty anger that one 
of his House should be obliged to refer all things to their 
High Mightinesses — understood that he wished to reign as 
hereditary Stadthouder ! Then came his untimely death, 
and shortly afterwards Princess Mary had given birth to 
that frail, sickly infant, William III. of Orange, who 
none had deemed could be reared to manhood. Little did 
any one think that the ailing child was destined to rule 
England and Holland with an iron rule ! 

Duller days than ever had fallen on the Hague, and the 
Queen smiled when she recalled poor D'Espinay's saying 
that it was dull " k mourir jeune ! " The tedium had been 
interrupted by the festivities celebrating the Kestoration 
of Charles II. There had been banquets in the Binnenhof 
once more, merrymakings and rejoicings, and Elizabeth 
Stuart had seen her nephew, an acknowledged King, sail 
away from Scheveningen to claim his own in England. 

" Come soon, dear aunt ; I will make a ragout of the 
Puritans for your first supper at Whitehall ! " he had 
whispered gaily as he bade her farewell. After a few 
weeks Princess Mary had also sailed for England, and the 
dulness of the Hague had weighed like lead on the Queen's 
spirit. There had come the news of poor young Henry, 
Duke of Gloucester's death ; and three months later the 
Queen had heard that Princess Mary of Orange had also 
taken the smallpox and was like to die. Elizabeth Stuart 
would have sailed then and there for England, had she had 



410 THE WINTER QUEEN 

the money, but, as usual, she was penniless. The small- 
pox is one of Death's swiftest messengers, and in a few 
days the Queen had heard that Princess Mary was dead. 

And now the Hague became insufferable to Elizabeth 
Stuart. She was too lonely, too weary; and she had 
decided to journey to England. She had pawned her 
few remaining jewels, had paid her creditors what she 
could, and had promised them to return out of England 
with gold enough to satisfy their claims. She had granted 
her chief creditors an audience — it had taken place in the 
courtyard at the back of the house on the Lange Voorhout 
— for she did not wish them to see how threadbare and 
frayed were her chairs and hangings ; here she had thanked 
the honest tradesmen for their generous forbearance, and 
they had withdrawn from her presence, feeling as though 
they were in her debt, not she in theirs ! 

With high hopes she had set out, accompanied by 
Craven. At the outset her buoyancy had been dashed 
by Charles' messenger at Delftshaven, but she had sailed 
joyously nevertheless, believing, in spite of experience, that 
all would be well. 

And now she stood on the ship's deck talking with Craven, 
but watching the coast for some message of welcome, ex- 
pecting to see a Royal barge skimming over the water. 

The twilight fell ; she could hear the birds chanting 
their evensong in a copse near the river-banks. " There 
is no messenger from the King, Craven," she said, and 
her voice was unnaturally steady, steady with effort. " It 
is of no consequence ! Tell the captain to weigh anchor, 
thus we shall land unnoticed." 

" It will be much more restful for your Majesty than 
the noise of a state reception," said Craven, without 
looking at her. 

" I vow 'tis mighty thoughtful of my nephew," she 
answered ; " he doubtless knew that I should prefer to 
arrive quietly." 

Craven bent and kissed her hand, and in the half-light 
she did not see that his eyes were full of tears. 



HOME 411 

The Queen of Bohemia was installed in my Lord of 
Craven's house, a fine enough mansion, with lofty rooms 
and a large garden where the last lilacs were still in bloom 
when her Majesty arrived. The " little man " had bought 
Combe Abbey many years ago from the impoverished 
Harringtons, and he had ordered many things from 
thence to be brought up to London to furnish the apart- 
ments which he had placed at the Queen's disposal, thus 
she found in Craven House chairs and mirrors, and 
pictures, which she had known in the days of her 
childhood at Combe. 

Two mornings after her arrival she and Craven were 
together in the " great parlour " overlooking the garden. 
The latticed windows stood wide open. The Queen was 
sitting in a tall, walnut-wood chair which she remembered 
to have been Lady Harrington's. A gentle breeze stirred 
the crimson silken curtains which bordered the deep 
embrasure of the windows, and the scent of the lilacs 
was wafted in. It was very still in the room, for that 
quiet part of London near Drury Lane, though it was 
beginning to be the mode, was still but sparsely built 
over, and each handsome mansion owned a large garden. 

The whole preceding day Elizabeth Stuart had 
"rested." In reality she had waited for a visit from 
the King; in reality both she and Craven had listened 
to each footfall in the corridor, hoping that it might be 
that of a lackey hastening to announce his Majesty — or 
some envoy from him. But the night had fallen, and 
still Charles had not sent a greeting to his kinswoman. 
Craven had prayed her Majesty permit him go to White- 
hall to wait upon the King, but she had answered that 
her nephew was surely giving her time to recover from 
the fatigues of travel ; he would come to her in a few days. 

On her arrival at Craven House Prince Rupert had 
greeted his mother right lovingly, albeit his quiet, stern 
manner always made him appear cold. His chemical 
experiments occupied him more than ever nowadays 
and he told her Majesty that she must not account him 
churlish if he were not constantly at her side ; he had 



412 THE WINTER QUEEN 

much business to transact with the ordering of the fleet, 
which often kept him away from London. 

" Oh ! son of mine," she said, " think you that I would 
have you under my wing ? The old hen hath hatched 
out her brood, Rupert ; and 'tis but a foolish old hen 
who raises a cackle after a full-grown young cock as if 
he were a chick ! No, leave that — I understand you, son, 
leave that, and tell me of this new way of graving which 
you are so busy about." 

He told her of the new mezzo tinto which had been 
discovered by an artillery captain in the Netherlands, 
and how 'twould be a perfect way of reproducing even 
the most delicate miniatures. 

Rupert's presence had lightened the strain of waiting 
for a messenger from King Charles, which both she and 
Craven had found irksome enough, though, as was her 
custom, the Queen crushed disagreeable trifles by ignoring 
them, as she was wont to say. 

But this morning, as she and Craven sat together in 
the " great parlour," there was no Prince Rupert to divert 
their attention, for he had ridden away the preceding 
evening to Chatham. For some time they sat in silence. 

" Craven, my friend," she cried suddenly, " let us have 
a jaunt to-day. I'll don my largest velvet mask ; you can 
be masked too, and we'll go to Mulberry Gardens, or 
shall we find seats in some playhouse ? " 

Craven looked perplexed. " Punch's playhouse admits 
no one who is masked — and the cockpit — your Majesty, 
you could not go there like a stranger ; 'tis very like the 
King and the whole Court will be there " 

" Why not the Duke's Theatre ? I have heard 'tis 
mighty fine," she said. 

" It was years ago — " he began, then hesitated ; he did 
not want to remind her how long it was since she had 
seen London. " It hath grown a trifle — er — dusty," he 
finished lamely. 

" So have I," she answered, laughing. As she spoke 
hurried footsteps were heard in the corridor, and a lackey 
came in. 



HOME 413 

" His Majesty the King has just entered the courtyard, 
my lord," he said. 

" I will receive his Majesty here," the Queen said coldly. 
Craven hurried away to meet the King at the house door. 

King Charles came quickly into the " great parlour." 
He wore no cloak. His light-blue satin doublet fitted 
closely to his slight, wiry figure, a collar of fine white lace 
showed up the olive hue of his thin face, with the harsh, 
little, black moustache brushed away from his well- cut, 
melancholy mouth. His large brown eyes were very like 
Elizabeth Stuart's. He wore his own hair long and curled. 

The Queen curtsied deeply; then, as he stood a moment 
in the doorway, she came towards him with outstretched 
hands. 

" Good greeting to your Majesty," she said pleasantly. 

A quick smile of relief passed over Charles' swarthy face. 
" God's 'ounds ! I am right glad to see you, my merry 
lady ! " he cried. " I have been a-walking to Charing to 
look at my new Barbary mare, and I ventured to come 
see if your Majesty had arrived." 

" My Majesty arrived two days since very secretly, 
nephew," she said lightly ; " and my Majesty was well 
pleased that your Majesty let me come home so quietly ! " 

" I believe that my Majesty is a scurvy knave," he 
answered, smiling ; " but I've just had proof again that my 
Majesty's dear aunt is, as ever, a right witty lady!" He 
led her towards the window-seat, then paused. 

" There is a pack of silly fools who call themselves my 
dear friends ; they wait without to be presented to your 
Majesty. They are all a-panting from our walk ! " he 
added in a whisper. 

She laughed. " Nephew Charles, an you walk at a 
run, as you used to do, I forgive the poor gentlemen," 
she said. 

" They like it — ah ! they affect it greatly — run after 
me — since I am King ! " he said bitterly. " I walked 
alone before ; but 'tis good for the health, sweet aunt, 
whether you are followed by a pack of panting peers, or 
walk alone — 'tis always good for the health." This last 



414 THE WINTER QUEEN 

was spoken gravely, for Charles was always serious when 
he talked of his health. 

Elizabeth Stuart smiled. " Bring in the pack of fools, 
nephew," she said. 

The King went to the door : " Her Majesty will receive 
you, gentlemen," he called. 

About half-a-dozen gallants entered. 

" Which of 'em hath not the honour to be known to 
your Majesty ? " the King said. 

Elizabeth Stuart scanned the gentlemen. " I need no 
one to present the Duke of Buckingham to me," she said 
graciously, holding out her hand. " Alas ! sir, changed 
days since you sojourned in Holland ! " 

"Ah ! madam, 'tis very true," George Villiers answered 
gloomily. 

" He hath long forgotten his love for my sister of 
Orange, sweet aunt ! " the King said mockingly. " Ask 
him how he fared in France — ask him how sped his 
wooing of Henriette." 

Buckingham flushed angrily. His mad passion for 
Princess Henriette had disturbed Monsieur le Due 
d'Orleans' recent wedding festivities, and Buckingham 
had been summarily dismissed. He knew that the 
Court at Whitehall had made merry over his discom- 
fiture, that my Lady Castlemaine never missed an 
opportunity of uttering a coarse gibe at his expense, 
that the King vastly enjoyed the pleasantry. 

The Queen turned to the other gentlemen. " I think 
I know your face, sir ! " she said to a slight, fair-haired 
man. " No ? yet you are so like that you must be a 
kinsman of that poor Kinnoul who was so fine an archer ? 
We had many a good hour's shooting at the targets 
together with my Lord of Montrose years ago at Rhenen." 

"He was my uncle, your Majesty; he died of fever at 
Orkney when he was raising troops for his Majesty of 
blessed memory," the young man answered. 

" At Rhenen he often spoke of his young brother, 
George Hay ; was he your father ? " 

" Yes, madam." 



HOME 415 

" Does he live still ? " slie asked. 

" Madam, 'tis thought that he died of starvation. He 
followed my Lord of Montrose after Corbiesdale ; they 
wandered for days in the hills, and my father fainted 
for hunger. My Lord of Montrose was forced to leave 
him, and he was never heard of more." 

" And you are my Lord of Kinnoul now ? " she said. 
" Ah I sir, forgive me, but I am like a ghost of the 
past; I do not know the world of to-day," she added a 
little sadly. 

" You soon will, aunt ! " cried the King, anxious to 
turn the talk to some gayer theme. " See, here is Sir 
Charles Sedley, a poet with a monstrous pretty daughter ; 
and Sir Anthony Ashley — oh ! I forgot — my Lord 
Ashley ! I've just baked him from a baronet to a 
peer ; 'odds truth ! but I had to bake him anew, for 
he smelled musty of stale, sham Puritanism ! " 

" I am as crisp now for your Majesty's service as I 
was flabby in the service of the rebels," answered Ashley 
coolly. 

" Tut ! man, you have the finest practice of self-service 
I have ever met," said the King, lolling lazily in the 
cushioned window-seat. " Will your Majesty do me the 
honour to come to the Cockpit this afternoon and see a 
comedy ? " 

" Right willingly, nephew," the Queen cried. " Craven 
here was saying this very morning that I could not go." 

" That was before his Majesty's visit," Craven said, 
casting Charles a resentful look. 

" Gad's 'ooks I Craven, I love thee ! Thou art an 
honest — fool ! " said the King, clapping the " little man " 
on the shoulder. 

That afternoon, towards three of the clock, the King's 
own carosse with the four dappled Flanders mares was 
seen driving through the ill-paved streets to the Cockpit. 
The streets were thronged with ponderous vehicles, which 
Craven told the Queen were hackney-coaches, and could 
be hired by any person who could pay their price. 
Before the theatre was a veritable army of serving-men 



416 THE WINTER QUEEN 

struggling and figlating, and dozens of orange-girls yelling 
their wares in loud tones. At the door of the theatre 
her Majesty found the King awaiting her, surrounded by 
a number of gentlemen. His Majesty led her to the 
centre gallery, and stood leaning over her chair and 
pointing out the various people of interest among the 
audience. 

" There is Tom Killigrew next to Ashley ; to the left 
is Lauderdale ; and there is Roscommon. There stands 
my Lord of Worcester !" he said. "No, you are looking 
at old Ormond — a mighty dullard, but good ; only he 
wearies me with his stately ways, you know, sweet aunt. 
But look at Worcester ; ah ! we owe him much — so 
much, that 'tis best to forget it ! " 

The Queen saw an extremely tall old man, with a 
small pointed beard and bru shed-up moustache in the 
mode of King Charles I., with melancholy, weary brown 
eyes under highly-arched, pencilled eyebrows, with an 
enormous hooked nose. 

"Yes, that is Worcester — a nose like a bird's beak, 
you say, dear Majesty ? Yes, but he likes it ; for on 
some old fellow's tomb, some ancestor of three hun- 
dred years ago, you may see a monster hook sticking 
up — so they say. Where is it ? Oh ! Westminster 
Abbey, or some such place — I never know these things ; 
but I know old Worcester would give half his face — 
that's his nose, sweet aunt, ain't it ? — to have me see 
some contrivance he's builded to make wheels run by 
steam. I can't be plagued to see the thing ; but I'll 
make old Worcester a duke some day, when I've leisure 
— he's got my father's letter and a patent making him 
a duke in his pocket now ! 'Odds life, they all have 
claims," he added gloomily, " all of 'em, all of 'em ! " 
He fell to stroking the silky-haired spaniel which he 
held under his arm. " They'd need three kings and six 
treasuries to content 'em all," he muttered, and fell into 
a moody silence. 

In the pit the serving- men squabbled and fought : 
baronets' lackeys fighting knights' major-domos, earls' 



HOME 417 

outriders jostling barons' henchmen. A ceaseless hum- 
ming filled the air ; loud voices screamed broad pleasan- 
tries from gallery to gallery, and the orange-girls plied 
their trade with noisy effrontery among the gallants who 
stood about. 

Opposite the Queen was a row of empty chairs, towards 
which she noticed Charles constantly glanced. Now, 
with a deal of calling out and ostentatious ado, a tall, 
thin woman with a pale face, light-brown hair, and large, 
limpid hazel eyes, was led to one of these chairs by a 
much-bedizened gentleman, whom the Queen recognised 
as my Lord Duke of Buckingham. 

" Who is that with the Duke — methinks I know her 
face, nephew ? " she said ; but the King had gone. She 
saw him threading his way along the gallery towards 
the lady. 

For a moment the Queen sat there alone among that 
gay assemblage. She saw that all the gentlemen who 
attended the King had followed him, and were crowding 
round the pale-faced woman. 

" I crave your Majesty's pardon, I was sending a 
messenger to bring my carosse to drive your Majesty 
home," said Craven's voice at her elbow. 

" Why so, little man ? " she asked wonderingly. 

" Lady Castlemaine had refused to come to the Cockpit 
this day — as I heard. But she's changed her caprice, 
and there might be a desperate pother if she wished the 
King to drive her in his carosse to supper at Whitehall 
after the play," he answered ; "so I have sent for your 
Majesty's own carosse — 'twill be there an you need it." 

" Craven, you are mighty good to an old woman," she 
said, and there flashed across her lips and eyes that smile 
which always made her look young again. 

" I am there to serve you," he answered in a low voice. 

" So that is my new Lady Castlemaine," the Queen said 
after a pause. " Yes, I saw her once in Holland some 
years back. She looks mild enough, but they do say 
that not even an old barber woman of Drury Lane can 
outstrip her in rough words ! " 

2 D 



418 THE WINTER QUEEN 

Silence fell between them, and they watched the gay, 
restless scene in the playhouse — the inattentive, whisper- 
ing audience ; the gallants on the stage itself, where their 
crowding almost hid the actors ; the actors a motley 
band, and the " lady " who played the role of a forsaken 
damsel — a long, lanky figure, whose angular movements, 
strides, and hoarse voice proclaimed her to be a " boy " of 
something over fifty years. The performances at the 
Cockpit were old-fashioned and badly played, though the 
audience still vastly preferred the antics of the boy 
" actresses " to the new mode of women playing the female 
roles, as was to be seen at some of the other London 
playhouses. 

The Queen's eyes wandered to my Lady Castlemaine 
and the King. He was lolling lazily beside her, his 
little spaniel in his arms, and his sad brown eyes gazing 
absently into the playhouse, while my lady poured forth 
a torrent of words at him. 

"My nephew does not seem to be enjoying himself 
too much ! " the Queen said to Craven. 

" Nay," he answered, " Mistress Barbara Palmer's — I 
implore her pardon — my Lady Castlemaine's service is 
no light task ! But 'tis said his Majesty looked over- 
long at little Mistress Frances, Captain Walter Stewart's 
daughter, the other day, and that since then Castlemaine 
is fiercer than ever." 

The Queen sighed. " My nephew is a prey to these 
women," she said. 

" But, madam, 'twill be diifferent when the Portuguese 
Princess comes and takes her place as Queen," Craven 
answered. 

Elizabeth Stuart shook her head. " Little man, you 
judge the world by your own good heart and honest 
habits ! But look ! " she added, " why, there is Nan Hyde, 
my royal niece of York ! At the playhouse so soon after 
her baby boy's death ! Ah ! she's as hard as a pebble, 
I always thought it when she was lady-in-waiting to my 
poor niece of Orange at the Hague." She looked across 
at the Duchess of York, fair, placid, and commonplace. 



HOME 419 

Suddenly, amidst this world, whicli was her world, and 
yet utterly strange to her, a wave of unwonted sadness 
swept over Elizabeth Stuart. Why had she left Holland, 
she asked herself? There she knew all the polite world, 
knew the lives, the characters of the men and women ; 
the older ones had seen her as a young woman, the younger 
men and ladies she had known when they were children. 
Now it seemed to her that she had left a home ; there 
she had played a part, whereas here she was an onlooker, 
here she had no place. At that moment she knew the 
bitterness of loneliness in a crowd, that loneliness which 
is nearly fear — almost panic. And now she became aware 
that thousands of eyes scrutinised her — curiously — coldly. 
Womanlike she was seized with a terror lest her gown 
was old-fashioned — absurd. She gripped the arms of her 
chair convulsively, told herself that she was a fool — an 
old fool. She saw my Lady Castlemaine looking at her, 
saw her laugh ; Nan Hyde, too, whispered to a lady seated 
next her, and they both laughed. 

The first act of the comedy came to an end, and a 
greater hubbub than ever arose. Behind her she heard 
a voice say : " Before the Commonwealth ? Lord love ye, 
before the late king reigned ! Why ! time of old King 
James ! " She turned her head abruptly ; three gallants 
were wending their way along the gallery. She heard 
them laughing. 

The King came across to her. His face was drawn 
with weariness ; an ugly sneer twisted his lips when he 
tried to smile at her. 

" Will you grace my Palace of Whitehall at supper 
to-night, sweet aunt ? " he said, " it would be mighty 
pleasant." She read through his kindly intent, knew he 
was in deadly fear of his mistress's wrath ; if she went to 
Whitehall she would use the King's carosse, and Castle- 
maine would have to follow in her own coach ; if she did 
not go to Whitehall, the mistress, although she would 
have had the King's carosse, would torment the King 
because it would be said that the Queen of Bohemia 
would not sup in my Lady of Castlemaine's company. 



420 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" Nay, nephew Charles, I pray you hold me excused," 
the Queen said. " I am still weary with travel ; would 
your Majesty permit me to withdraw now ? My Lord of 
Craven's coach awaits me. Nephew, I shall be right 
willing to sup at Whitehall another evening — you shall 
choose the company, Charles — you shall choose the 
company." 

My Lady of Castlemaine saw the King how over the 
Queen's hand, saw him kiss it twice almost like a lover, 
before he led her along the gallery to the door. Lady 
Castlemaine delivered herself of a coarse jest on the 
subject of amours within the proscribed degrees of affinity, 
and she was more than usual shrewish when Charles 
returned to her. The King's whole attitude to Elizabeth 
Stuart had been that of a man under the spell, not alone 
of a woman's charm, but of her generous pride of race 
and easy humorous knowledge of the world. 

Some fortnight after the visit to the Cockpit, the 
Queen and my Lord of Craven were together in the 
" great parlour " at Craven House. Spring had hurried 
onwards, and Summer reigned. The parlour windows 
stood wide open, and a scent of roses and freshly mown 
grass stole in. The clear air was full of the quick, soft 
notes of swallows as they darted past, circled, soared, then 
flashed away beyond the gardens and the labyrinth of 
narrow streets between Craven House and the river. 

Elizabeth Stuart leaned there in the straight-backed 
walnut chair. Her strong white hands with the long 
delicate fingers rested idly on the polished chair-arms, 
and Craven noted that their delicacy had grown, and 
that the blue veins showed on them more than ever. 
He glanced at her face ; she looked a trifle weary, he 
thought, but then it had seemed that King Charles could 
not have enough of her Majesty's company. He had 
carried her off to playhouse and opera, had prayed her 
accompany him to see the royal stables at Charing, to 
feed the ducks on the water in St. James's Park, had 
insisted on her watching him playing tennis; she had 



HOME 421 

been here, there, and everywhere with him, until a pert 
writer in one of the News Letters had written that : " My 
Lady of C. hath a veritable rival in the Q. of B." Seeing 
how the King's fancy went, the whole Court gave her 
much honour, and my Lord Clarendon was heard to 
declare that he had hopes of his Majesty learning to 
enjoy decent company yet. 

Despite all this homage Craven had seen a shadow on 
Elizabeth Stuart's face. He knew she was troubled by 
Karlutz's unchivalrous action in threatening to have her 
few belongings seized, if she endeavoured to have them 
removed from the Hague. The things were his, Karlutz 
averred, and he would have them at Heidelberg. King 
Charles had written his cousin a peremptory command, 
and had presented the Queen with some twelve thousand 
pounds wherewith to satisfy her Hague creditors' most 
pressing demands. Things were going well at last for 
her Majesty, yet Craven thought he saw a cloud on her 
brow, and the love in his heart taught him to understand 
that she felt herself to be old and out of place in this 
new, gay world. 

As she leaned there in her high-backed chair, listening 
to the summer sounds in the garden, her thoughts were 
busy with the past. The swallows' chirping song recalled 
many scenes to her mind, scenes which only she on earth re- 
membered, and herein is the inevitable loneliness of old age. 

She was revisiting Heidelberg — as it had been — as it 
had been — it was all changed now. She was seeing 
Prague again — the Hradcany — the Star Palace. She 
remembered how she and Friedrich had stood together 
looking from out the window of her withdrawing-room, 
and that over the Stag Park the swallows had soared 
uttering this same sharp, hurried song. Once more she 
saw before her the grand view of Prague — the mighty 
sweep of the Moldau — the long line of the monastery on 
the Strahow Hill — the grim squareness of the old mill on 
the river. She passed her hand over her eyes. What 
was Craven saying ? His voice sounded far off. She 
called back her wandering attention. 



422 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" Oh ! my Queen, I cannot bear to see your eyes look 
so sad ! " he was saying, " I know you are oppressed with 
loneliness sometimes — I know these struggles with the 
Elector Karlutz are bitter to you. Queen of my life, let 
me serve you — let me have the right to protect you. 
Forgive my presumption." 

Once before he had prayed her this same prayer, but 
she had laughingly told him " he had a gigue in his 
head," and that he had best marry Princess Elizabeth. 

" Ah ! Craven," she said gravely, " must the reward of 
all your loving service of me be a cold word of denial ? 
Friend, friend, why must you ask me this ? It could 
be but a monstrous silly thing for June to mate with 
November ! Because of your great love of me, you forget 
that I am an old woman." She laid her hand on his 
arm. " Nay, do not shake your head, friend, I am an old 
woman, and you are young." 

" Madam, madam ! " he broke in eagerly, " you could 
never grow old to me ! I am no youth, but a grave man 
past middle age. June and November ! Why, madam, 
I am in the autumn of life too ! You can never grow 
old to me because I love you." 

" Yet I am old. Craven, and the world would jeer at 
you," she answered ; " aye, and at me, too, did I become 
your wife. The world has an ugly, clear vision, and an 
ugly set of words wherewith to name things ! Yes, my 
lord," she added, " drawing herself up haughtily, " let us 
be unfortunate if God wills it, but ridiculous never ! " 

" My Queen," he said humbly, " believe me, I but offer 
you my poor protection — and all the service of my life. 
I would never offer you wifehood as to some hoyden girl, 
madam — you understand ? I would but kiss your finger- 
tips — the hem of your gown — and think myself for this 
prouder than any lover who may dare to ask and take all 
that a woman hath to give." 

She looked at him musingly. 

" And yet," she said after a pause, " and yet the world 
would count our marriage as a hideous thing." 

" What need the world to know ? " he cried ; " yet if 



HOME 423 

I had the right I could protect you against a hundred 
importunities ; I could treat with the Elector — only those 
need know who dare molest you — then I could shield 
you. Oh ! my Queen, all the world knows how utterly 
I love you " 

" Would it give you such happiness ? " she interrupted. 
" I would fain give you happiness, Craven, but it could be 
no mating ; friend of mine, I am an old woman — it could 
be no mating." Her hand went up to her breast and 
touched a little crystal jewel which lay there — a little 
jewel graven with the name " Elizabeth." 

"There is a line of an old song which often rings in 
my mind, madam, when I think of my love for you," 
Craven said — 

" The heaven of heavens with heavenly power preserve thee, 
Love but thyself, and give me leave to serve thee." 

He hummed the melody softly. 

The Queen started up and caught his arm almost 
roughly. " Not that — not that — do not sing that ! " she 
said, and to Craven's bewilderment he saw how she, who 
had not quailed before the cruellest sorrows, seemed 
broken and vanquished by the lilt of an old song. She 
covered her face with her hands and wept helplessly. 

The song had brought back to her, as in a vision, 
a night of June — June forty years ago. She stood once 
more with Friedrich on the wide terrace at Heidelberg — 
she leaned against the parapet and looked down into the 
silent valley, where the moon had magicked the river 
Neckar to a silver pathway — the rich fragrance of roses 
was wafted to her, while from below, in the rosery, there 
came a young, passionate voice singing that old love 
song. 

Ah God ! when life was young, and love was young — 
how good had been the days ! And now all was dead, 
Friedrich and Christel — and her own youth. The song 
had come back to her like some ghostly echo of the 
vanished years. Her yearning turned towards Holland, 
too, again — to Holland, where she had known the rapture 



424 THE WINTER QUEEN 

of Christian's love — she touched the little jewel on her 
breast and wept afresh. 

" What have I done ? Forgive me, I will never im- 
portune you again ! It was insolent presumption, but I 
only wish to serve you — " he said. 

" Craven, my friend," she answered, and once more the 
witchery of her smile conquered both tears and old age, 
and made her seem young again, " Craven, you brought 
my youth back to me ; yon song was sung to me forty 
years ago, when I was young, and I do but weep my lost 
youth, as all must mourn, methinks, when they know life's 
fairest gift is faded — faded with the roses of my rosery 
at Heidelberg, which they tell me Spinola's men trampled 
down long since." 

Craven looked at her questioningly. Suddenly he 
realised the gulf of years which was betwixt him and his 
beloved Queen, and the knowledge came to him that love 
may conquer all foes save that relentless, silent combatant 
Time. The years that have vanished no man can snatch 
back, even if he give his soul he may not alter one line 
of the song that has been sung. Thus the indestructible 
past rises between old age and youth, a barrier which none 
can break down. 

Craven bent and kissed the Queen's hand reverently. 
" I will never importune you more," he said gently. 

" Nay ! " she answered, " I will grant you what you ask. 
After all, 'tis but a few years that I have to give, but shall 
I not reward you for so faithful a service ? If it would 
make you happy to be bound to me by God's law, I will 
right gladly be your wife, and we will go to Combe, and 
live through the quiet days. Craven, you have given 
me peace — peace after so many storms." She laid her 
hands on his shoulders, and drew him to her, looking 
straight into his honest grey eyes which were a little 
clouded with tears just then. " God bless you for all 
you have been to me ! " she said. 

Thus it fell out that Elizabeth Stuart, Queen of Bohemia, 
gave her hand in marriage to my Lord of Craven, son of 



HOME 425 

the draper mercliant, Lord Mayor of London, and one of 
tlae truest gentlemen tliat ever lived. 

So she came back to Combe at last, and the long years 
seemed, for a moment, to have rolled away, and she 
dreamed herself a little maiden once more. All things 
were unchanged, the tall trees of the avenue whispered 
the same secrets beneath the breeze's kiss ; they seemed 
to be the same water-lilies on the moat swaying above 
the water's lazy play ; the same sound of rooks cawing in 
the trees ; the same peace brooding over the red -brick 
house. She went to her " Isle of Constant Spring," 
walked through the fields and the old farmstead which 
she had called " my territories " fifty years ago. She even 
found the same briar-bush before the old garden gate- 
way, whence she had so often plucked wild roses to carry 
to my Lady of Harrington, who, she remembered, had 
once held a wild rose close to her fresh young cheek, and 
had vowed laughing : " Your little Highness hath stolen 
its bloom, methinks." 

The house, too, was unchanged; sometimes when she 
passed down the broad, shallow steps of the old stairway 
she almost glanced over her shoulder to see if she were 
unobserved, as if she were going to lean her arms upon 
the smooth banisters, and to slip down deliciously with 
Phyllis — naughty, laughing Phyllis — sliding after her. 
She occupied the same room where she had slept fifty years 
ago ; she gazed out at the same quiet fields beyond the 
sunk fence of the formal garden ; she heard the cuckoo 
calling, and the doves' soft, monotonous song; the well- 
remembered scent of the jasmin beneath her window-sill 
came to her. 

The only change was made by the things she had 
brought with her out of her long years of exile, by the 
pictures of Friedrich, and of the many brave men who 
had fought for him. One picture there was before which 
she often stood. This was Mierevelt's copy of his own 
picture of Christian of Brunswick, of the mad Halber- 
stadter. King Friedrich had caused Mierevelt to paint all 



426 THE WINTER QUEEN 

the great leaders who had served him, and the Halber- 
stadter had been among them. 

Sometimes in the delicious quiet of the great park 
a sob rose in her throat. She would fain have given 
of the amplitude of this peace, of this sweet calmness, 
to Friedrich, to the poor broken-spirited man who had 
written to her from a battlefield those sorrowful, humble 
words : " If God would but give me a little quiet corner 
of the world to live with thee and rest." 

Peace had come to her, did those who had loved 
her rest too ? " Christian, are you at peace ? Beloved, 
beloved ! " she whispered, and for an instant the potent 
remembrance of her passion gave the old woman's face as 
a mirage of the splendour of youth. 

On Sunday mornings the Queen drove to that village 
church at Brinklow where she had so often been as a 
little maiden. Craven would have fitted up a private 
chapel for her, but she loved the old-world simplicity of 
the little Brinklow church, with its uneven floor sloping 
uphill to the altar ; she loved to see the villagers in their 
smocks, and the rosy-faced children. There was a home- 
liness mingled with the poetry of the simple service which 
spoke to her of her vanished youth. As she kneeled 
there she realised that, hidden deep during the long years, 
there had always been a homesick yearning for England, 
for her own country. She told herself that she had paid 
dearly for the love, the honours, the ambitions, which 
had been hers, and now all things had failed her — but she 
had come home. And her heart awoke to a passion of 
love for England, English trees, English grasses, green 
and fresh as are no other swards on earth, the song of 
English birds, for where else do they warble like that ? 
the fragrancy of English lanes, the softness of the suave 
English air. She wondered if it would be granted to her 
to live through an English spring once more, to see the 
pale primroses flung like a fragile carpet of dehcious fresh- 
ness over the earth beneath the trees, and then the blue 
wild hyacinths — oh ! to break off their thick, crisp stems, 
and carry home a basketful 



HOME 427 

She bent her head over her clasped hands, and the 
villagers saw how her Majesty of Bohemia wept, and 
thought she mourned her loved ones again, thought she 
grieved for her lost kingdom, little knew that Elizabeth 
Stuart wept the forfeited years of that birthright which 
they, the humble ones, had never bartered, which they 
did not even prize, perhaps, that birthright of home — of 
England. 

Yet memory was pure of all bitterness to her now. 
She was weary — she was resting. The long day of her 
strife was ended, the twilight was falling, and she rested 
that she might sleep the sweeter when the night came. 

A mighty storm raged over London. The wind tore 
and shrieked and the rain fell in torrents. The narrow 
streets were deserted; it was not good to be abroad in 
that cruel tempest. 

In the great gallery at Whitehall King Charles and 
his Court were assembled. The waxen candles in the 
wall-sconces burnt low, and at the doors the lackeys 
yawned and cursed the revelry which kept them thus on 
duty till so far into the night. My Lady of Castlemaine's 
little negro had fallen asleep beside one of the pillars, his 
turban slanted across his brow ; one of his embroidered 
slippers had fallen off and the tired little foot lay bare. 
Pray heaven her ladyship does not see him 'ere he wakens 
— she hath a long pin in her corsage which she often 
uses cruelly ; she hath an ivory fan which can raise weals 
across a trembling black face. 

There were many card tables set out in the gallery, 
small ones where parties of three played gleek, and a long 
table for lansquenet, where the King had taken the bank. 
The gold lay in a shining heap beside him ; he had opened 
the bank with a hundred pounds. This was a serious 
business, and even my Lord Duke of Ormond was at this 
card-play, but he moved away after he had won a goodly 
sum. 

" Stay, Ormond ! " cried the King, " prudence is but ugly 
when a man hath won ! Stay, man, and take the bank ! " 



428 THE WINTER QUEEN 

" I pray your Majesty to hold me excused. I am 
weary and would go home," Ormond answered, bowing 
deep. 

" Off then ! you will slumber sound enough with those 
well- won plaques beneath your pillow ! " the King said 
good-naturedly. " I warrant my Lord of Roscommon will 
take the bank ! " 

" I'd play with the devil himself, and hold the bank 
against the minions of hell ! " cried Roscommon, who was 
a little drunk. 

" Oh ! my lord poet ; come and play gleek with me 
and Ashley," called my Lady of Shrewsbury. " Here is 
Tom Killigrew talking of late hours and how we should 
all be abed ! " 

Roscommon bent and whispered to her. 

" Fie, my lord ! " she cried, " you bring the blush to 
my cheek ! " 

" God's 'ounds, I thought she'd unlearned blushing ! 
Eh ? Barbara, my pretty tyrant ? " the King whispered 
to Lady Castlemaine, who sat near him. 

She did not answer, her eyes were fixed with an un- 
mistakable look upon young Harry Jermyn, the hand- 
some, fatuous fool whom, it was whispered, not even 
Princess Mary of Orange — dead now this eighteen months 
— not even the haughty Princess Mary had been able to 
resist. The King's eyes followed my Lady Castlemaine's 
glance. He shrugged his shoulders and sneered. 

" There is an ancient dance called ' Cuckholds all,' " he 
said, with aparent irrelevancy. She heard that and 
turned on Charles in a fury, pouring out foul words at 
him beneath her breath ; but he only laughed. 

" Waller, gentle Waller, come and keep me company ! " 
he called to a gaily attired gallant, who alone of that 
whole assemblage seemed cool and collected. 

" By heaven, man, you are the only sober soul who 
diverts me ' " the King said, as Waller came up to the 
lansquenet table. 

"'Tis not my soul that is sober, sire, only my body 
likes water better than sack ; but my soul is rapturously 



HOME 429 

drunken when I look on my Lady of Castlemaine," 
answered Waller. 

She tapped him on the fingers with her fan. " I like 
poets," she said, smiling delightedly, for no flattery was 
too obvious for her. 

" I prefer harlots ! " the King whispered to Killigrew, 
who stood near. " Come, my most honoured lady, and 
beguile my loneliness over yonder," he said with an 
exaggeratedly low bow. 

" Who plays ? Ladies ? My Lords ? I put down 
three hundred pounds ! " cried Roscommon, slipping into 
Charles' vacant chair at the head of the lansquenet table. 
A babble of voices arose as the company gathered round. 

" Put Buckhurst in a chair," said Sir Charles Sedley ; 
" he's as drunk as my Lord of Lauderdale himself, but 
he's sober enough to lose money." 

The King and my Lady of Castlemaine wandered away 
together to a broad, cushioned seat a little apart from the 
gamblers. Charles beckoned Waller and Killigrew to 
follow. My Lady of Castlemaine's humour at that moment 
did not tempt his Majesty to converse alone with her. 

" Give me a cup of sack, Tom," the King said to 
Killigrew ; " it grows late," he yawned. 

Just then Lady Castlemaine espied the pathetic little 
figure of the sleeping black boy. " Fetch me that lazy 
nigger ! Fetch him to me, I say ! " she cried shrilly. 

" Leave him be, Barbara ; 'tis past dawn, and he's weary, 
poor monkey," the King said lazily. 

" Fetch him to me — Tom ! — Waller ! — God damn 
him, how dare he sleep ? " she screamed. The little fellow 
stirred, and a smile came over his dusky face ; he turned 
in his sleep, and stretched himself. Lady Castlemaine 
caught up a small silver hand-mirror which lay on a 
table near her, and flung it full in the child's face. 

" Well thrown, my lady ! " laughed Charles. The little 
black boy sat up ; his turban had slipped off. 

" Oh, oh ! " he moaned, holding his shaking hands over 
his face. " Oh, don't ye beat me, lady ! " 

" Fetch him to me — you fools — " she screamed again. 



430 THE WINTER QUEEN 

The men did not move. The King was laughing 
nervously. Tom Killigrew stood silent. "Poor little 
devil ! " muttered Waller the poet. 

Slowly the negro dragged himself towards Lady Castle- 
maine ; a trickle of blood ran down his face from the cut 
which the silver hand-mirror had made. He crouched 
at her feet, holding up his small livid hands in supplication. 
" Don't ye beat me, lady — don't ye beat me !" he whined. 
She took that long gold pin with the ruby head from 
out the clustering laces at her bosom. " That will teach 
you to sleep while you serve me ! " she said ; and plunged 
the pin deep into the boy's arm. 

He fell flat on his face and lay there moaning. 
" Enough, Barbara ! " the King said sternly, and drew 
the poor African to him kindly, stroking his thick crinkled 
hair almost as gently as he was wont to stroke his spaniels. 
The boy gazed up into his face with a rapture of gratitude 
in his rolling eyes. 

" Here, nigger ! " Charles said, " 'tis nothing, little man ; 
better a bleeding face than a bleeding heart ! " He gave 
him his soft linen kerchief. " Wipe off the blood," he said, 
The boy caught his hand and kissed it passionately, 
then, crawling close to the King's foot, crouched there like 
a tortured animal which has found protection at last. 

" You'll leave him alone now, my lady ! " the King said, 
and there was an accent in his voice which caused even 
Castlemaine to fall silent. 

The air was full of the scent of ambergris, and of sweet 
essences, of laughter and soft whispered words ; the gold 
clinked as Roscommon pushed it to a winner, or drew his 
own gains from before some loser. Goblets of sack and 
canary were handed about by sleepy lackeys. Without 
the storm raged, and the wind, as though mad to enter 
and attack the revellers, tore at the casements, then 
baffled, hurried on moaning eerily. 

" What is this that I hear, sire, of her Majesty of 
Bohemia ? " asked Waller ; " 'tis said that since she came 
hither from Combe last week, she hath lain sick unto 
death at Leicester House." 



HOME 431 

" Yes, man, I am right grieved for her ; 'tis her lungs, 
I'm told — a sudden illness," the King began. 

" Why is she at Leicester House ? " broke in Lady 
Castlemaine. " She's married to Craven — or worse — 
why has she moved to another abode ? She was sump- 
tuously enough lodged at Craven House, and 'tis waste of 
good money, I vow, to have two houses ! " 

" Madam, my aunt chooses to have an establishment of 
her own," the King said haughtily. " She accepts my 
Lord of Craven's hospitality in the country " 

" Hospitality ! " sneered Lady Castlemaine. 

" I would she had deigned to honour my poor Palace 
of Whitehall. I offered her an apartment here, but she 
was too ill to be removed from Leicester House," he said. 

" La, sire, if you make Whitehall a refuge for the desti- 
tute, there'll be no room for other people," retorted Lady 
Castlemaine ; " but I warrant your Majesty only offered the 
Queen a room to die in — so that a daughter of England 
should not die in a hired house." 

" Barbara, Barbara, I ought to offer you a room in the 
Tower ! " he answered gloomily. He lolled back on the 
cushioned seat, and, calling his spaniel, which was slum- 
bering peacefully, he lifted it to his breast and held it 
there with a tenderness he never showed even to women. 

Without the wind moaned restlessly. Sir Charles 
Sedley, who had just taken his leave, re-entered the 
gallery. He came up to the King. 

" There is a messenger from my Lord of Craven, sire," 
he said in a low voice, " it is old Master Grey, Craven's 
secretary." 

" God's body ! let him enter," the King cried. " I am 
full anxious for news of my Lady of Bohemia ! " 

Craven's secretary entered, a grave old man, and an 
avowed Puritan ; but Charles, having known him well in 
Holland, had given strict injunctions he was to go un- 
molested, for all his Puritanism. 

" How now, master ? " the King called, as the old man 
stood hesitating at the end of the gallery. " Come close ; 
we are not a band of robbers who will set upon you ! You 



432 THE WINTER QUEEN 

came with a message — I trust my noble kinswoman 
shudders not before this ugly storm ? " 

" Nay, sire," the old man answered solemnly ; " her 
Majesty of Bohemia is no more. She died an hour since 
at Leicester House, died sitting straight and brave in her 
own great crimson chair." 

The King made no reply for a moment. The news was 
sudden and unexpected; for though all knew it was not 
well with Elizabeth Stuart, none had thought that Death 
would come to her so soon. 

The King rose from the cushioned seat where he had 
lolled. He put his little spaniel down carefully, then 
standing very straight, with a proud gesture he commanded 
silence to the noisy group around the lansquenet table. 

" Gentlemen ! " he said right gravely, " gentlemen, the 
Queen of Bohemia is no more. God rest her strong, 
courageous soul ! She hath been braver than many a 
knight of old ; she hath been very unfortunate " — his 
voice grew husky — " 'odds life, I grieve ! " he said, and 
snatched up a goblet of sack which stood on the table 
beside my Lady Castlernaine. " Gentlemen, I drink to a 
brave, sweet soul ! " 

Tears stood in the King's brown eyes, so like those 
brown eyes just closed for ever at Leicester House, closed 
in great peace after many tears ; yet, in spite of sorrows 
passing the share of most on earth, eyes which had never 
unlearned the courage of a smile. 

Of a truth Elizabeth Stuart was a brave, sweet soul ! 
God rest her well ! 



Printed by Ballantynb, Hanson &= Co. 
Edinburgh &" London 




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